


Wretched

by aviatordame



Series: She Need Not Go [1]
Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild, The Legend of Zelda: Hyrule Warriors
Genre: F/F, Link/Mipha Background Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-02
Updated: 2021-02-01
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:28:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 49,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28504497
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aviatordame/pseuds/aviatordame
Summary: After nearly a year of absence, Impa returns to Hyrule.She discovers that not only her Princess, but those she fought with, have moved onwards with their lives after the war.Yet, as her most loyal advisor, Impa stays true to the woman who means most to her.[Zelda/Impa; background Link/Mipha]
Relationships: Impa/Zelda (Legend of Zelda)
Series: She Need Not Go [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2142324
Comments: 109
Kudos: 96
Collections: LoZ: Botw/AoC Rareship Bingo





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I have been thinking about this ship a lot, especially because of _Age of Calamity_. Be warned, there will be spoilers! I plan for this story to be only a few chapters long. Thank you very much for reading, and I hope you enjoy. Feel free to let me know your thoughts in the comments below.  
> 

_your departure is not a tragedy  
_ _i am like a willow tree  
_ _that always dies  
_ _while standing—_

**1: Old Faithful**

* * *

Two years.

Two years until her coronation, when Hyrule acknowledges its true sovereign; the one who spared her Kingdom from impending death. Her advisors are excited, almost dashing along the hallways, eager to fulfil their duty, eager to offer her their best support. And, of course, she is grateful. Of course, she is honoured to still be alive, to accept the role of Head of State. As the last of her family bloodline, Princess Zelda simply cannot refuse. To renounce the throne for another is out of the question.

Within a month after the defeat of Calamity Ganon, Zelda rewarded her loyal knight, Link, with freedom. Naturally, he hesitated at first. However, she could see the glory in his eyes. The sudden realisation that the world was his, that everything he had ever desired may possibly come true; no longer tied to a prophecy he never even wanted to be a part of. He bowed, dropping to one knee, and kissed the back of her hand, and then, merely a ghost in her memory, he turned his back on her, departing.

She doesn’t miss him. Or, more, she refuses to.

There are more demanding things on her mind than the worry of love. Whether that is _truly_ what she felt for Link, she will never be sure. Either way, Zelda begins to realise just how much she can manage without him. Gradually, her confidence returns, and she is able to establish herself within the realm. After sparing Hyrule Kingdom, her people, thankfully, welcome their Queen with open arms, celebrating all she has achieved, and all she has done for them. She can’t imagine what would have happened if she had failed.

Yet, the only reason Zelda has been promised a coronation is due to an empty throne. Although her father, the late King Rhoam, had survived the events of Calamity, his war wounds eventually caught up with him. He passed away shortly after, leaving his only daughter and child to take the helm, and live up to all that he was. Zelda has not yet mourned his passing, and still to this day, she can’t find it in her to cry.

All that he forced upon her weeps into her memory like a sad song. Zelda can’t forget. Throughout her entire life, her father looked down at her as a disappointment; she will never admit he practically bullied her, but Zelda has scars of her own to prove the impact his words and actions had on her. She wants to miss him, to love him like a daughter ought to love her father, but, it never happens. Even as she lies awake at night, waiting for the tears to burst through, _nothing happens_.

Even at the funeral, watching his body burn on the pyre, she felt numb.

It has been eight months since Calamity Ganon’s defeat. A letter of grave importance has arrived for the Princess, and she opens it in hurry, recognising the handwriting as Lady Mipha’s. Zelda already knows what the letter reads, yet her hands are clammy, her heart racing, as she eats up every word.

A union, between Sir Link and Lady Mipha, will be initiated within the coming fortnight. The two of them would be honoured to have Princess Zelda present, should she feel comfortable to do so. Mipha takes extra care to make it clear how Zelda is almost _essential_ , and Zelda can tell she is slightly anxious of the Princess’s reaction. It is no secret Zelda held a significant warmth towards Link, yet Zelda is beginning to realise how innocent that warmth was in the end.

She accepts, of course, and writes back immediately.

Although Zelda holds no resentment or envy or anything of the sort, she can’t help but wonder if their union had potentially been delayed _because of her_. If Link and Mipha were having an affair before, they certainly kept it quiet. Zelda can’t be sure, though. The two of them were so loyal to their duty, they probably never had the time or chance to consider each other, until the Kingdom was safe.

The world is catching up for all that has been lost, whereas Zelda feels as if she’s still stuck in the same place. She hopes Link would write to her, and tell Zelda what happened between him and Mipha. After all, Zelda likes to believe she _is_ their friend, but, then again, she hardly knew them in the first place. Link was randomly assigned to protect Zelda, whereas Mipha, while she has always been kind to Zelda, is a foreign sovereign. It was generous of Mipha to resign from her throne rights during the battle of Calamity, but she has, indeed, returned to her position as heir to the Zora throne.

Maybe none of them were friends, just strong comrades. Zelda had noticed how Link and Mipha preferred battling together. They were a strong team, after all. She also will never forget Link’s desperation to rescue Mipha from Vah Ruta, nor the fact he stayed behind to help her injured wounds afterwards. Whatever occurred between them in private, Zelda will never know. During Mipha’s rescue, Zelda was admittedly terrified Mipha would die. It would have been horrible to lose her, but a nightmare for Link, and she would resent the Goddesses for having Link go through that kind of trauma.

Yet there is one person in particular who offered Zelda more than protection.

After Calamity’s defeat, Lady Impa had gone in search of adventure (or, refuge) leaving Zelda on her own. Zelda was surprised Impa could drop her duties like that, because she always thought Impa was her most loyal companion. Then again, Impa is human too; not to mention a very tricky individual to read. She might have expressed devotion and charisma to Zelda, but Zelda cannot be sure what was truly going on in her mind. Her departure had just been so _abrupt_ , and Zelda was admittedly hurt.

What makes matters worse is that, out of everybody, it is Impa she misses most.

Like Link, Impa hasn’t written to Zelda either. While Link may have his reasons, Zelda isn’t so forgiving of Impa, somebody who was _supposed_ to be her friend before the Calamity. Or, maybe she simply saw herself as another of Zelda’s guides. Disposable, and, once the war was over, irrelevant.

Zelda requests flowers be sent to Zora’s Domain, a gesture of celebration for both Lady Mipha and Sir Link. One of her advisors has them sent, and once all the most important errands have been finished for the day, Zelda retires to her private quarters. She changes into her night wear, shrugging on her gown, before opening the doors to the balcony outside. The moon is beginning to reach the dark clouds, and she leans over, inhaling the night.

Usually, in the evening, loneliness is a familiar companion.

In all honesty, Princess Zelda believes she _deserves_ loneliness. While she may have eventually accessed her powers, it took time, and many perished due to her incompetence. Zelda cannot thank the Champions enough for all they have done, nor her armies. Their sacrifices, patience and willingness to protect a woman who does not deserve protection in the slightest. Sometimes, she wonders if she should have died in the end; at least, then, Hyrule would be rid of a lousy sovereign. Why anybody could rejoice over Zelda ascending the throne, she has no idea. Zelda, she believes, is too worthless of an honour.

Once, Zelda did have a mother. Lady Urbosa speaks of her often, _too often_. A woman she admired and felt a great deal for. How sincere these feelings were remain a mystery, but Zelda can’t deny that Urbosa’s dedication to keep Zelda safe is because of her mother. They must have been close. She had heard great stories of her mother: she wasn’t a warrior by any means—not like Mipha or Urbosa, anyway. But, she had a big, kind heart. Her generosity and beauty are widely spoken of, and how much of a great mother she would have made.

Unfortunately her mother died when Zelda was barely six years of age. She wonders whether things would have been different had her mother survived. Whether she would have accessed her powers earlier.

Zelda isn’t the only one without a mother. Link, Impa and Mipha did not know theirs either. What does that do to a person? To have an absent mother, yet a neglectful father, almost _hating_ his own daughter’s existence, surely that will have detrimental effects on how one will not only live their life, but raise their own children. Zelda grimaces. At least Impa and Link don’t know their father, and Mipha’s father is far more forgiving than Zelda’s. Still, the impact of absent parents cannot be understated.

Returning to her room, Zelda leaves the balcony doors open as she searches for her book. It’s one Urbosa let her borrow, focussing on old legends of the male Gerudo, Ganondorf. How, in different generations, he was actually a _kind_ man. Zelda finds that difficult to believe, though. Most stories she has heard of the great Ganondorf have always been surrounded with evil and greed. Yet, there was a reason why Urbosa gave her this book, and encouraged her to read it. That, maybe, the world isn’t all bad after all.

The spine cracks open as she resumes from where she was. However, before she can begin, Zelda hears a light _thump_ from the balcony. Initially, the Princess freezes, not sure if her mind is playing games with her. Then, cautiously (yet, prepared to defend herself), she moves towards the open balcony—

‘Your Royal Highness,’ Impa bows. ‘Sorry for the late intrusion.’

Zelda blinks, stupefied. ‘We have a main entrance.’

‘I know, however I wanted to skip niceties with the guards, and see you as soon as I could.’

‘You—you _climbed_ the Castle walls?’

They look at each other, both equally baffled. Zelda because of Impa’s entrance, and Impa because is Zelda honestly that surprised?

‘If you prefer, I can visit you in the morning. I admit, it is getting rather late.’

‘You never wrote.’ Zelda’s rage flares. ‘Not once. You _left_ , and I was happy for you to be independent of me, but I expected a letter at the very least. Just so I knew you were okay. It’s been _months_ , and you expect us to continue as normal?’

Impa chews on her lower lip. Perhaps it was naïve of her to hope Zelda would, well, _let that slide_. She should have written admittedly, but Impa thought it best Zelda not be advised by the same people all the time. That she establish herself on her own, become a Princess who doesn’t depend on another.

Glancing at her shoes, Impa says, ‘Sorry.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Zelda mutters, although it clearly does. ‘You might as well come inside. Close the doors behind you.’

Relieved, Impa steps inside the Princess’s quarters, obeying her instructions. Once the doors are shut, she turns back to Zelda, who now sits on the edge of her bed. It is obvious that the young Princess is still frustrated with her, but Zelda is trying her best _not_ to allow emotions to dominate her decisions.

Impa reaches for a chair in the corner, and drags it over to sit near Zelda, yet makes sure it’s a couple of metres away. She doubts Zelda is completely forgiving yet, and it’s probably best Impa doesn’t intrude on her space.

‘You look well, Princess,’ she starts. ‘How are you getting along?’

‘Fine,’ Zelda answers shortly. She wraps her gown around her tighter. ‘So, are you going to tell me where you’ve been?’

‘Mainly outside of Hyrule. The other nations which lie across the seas. I’ve discovered all kinds of different religions, how people rule; the diversity of species which roam our planet. Honestly, it’s remarkable! I’m sure you would have enjoyed yourself, ma’am, had you the liberty to accompany me.’

‘Well, in case you’ve forgotten, I have a Kingdom to rule.’

Impa sighs. ‘Look, I know you’re angry at me, but—’

‘I’m not _angry_.’

‘Okay.’

Zelda exhales slowly, pinching the bridge of her nose. ‘Since your departure, I have been completely alone. I accepted that, and I shan’t complain. Gods know it’s what I deserve. I understood why Link chose another life, and why the other Champions have moved on from their oaths. That is what I expected from them. However, for my dearest friend, and most _loyal_ companion, to abandon me without even a good bye—’ she shakes her head, ‘—that _hurts_ me. You didn’t even consider staying a little longer after Father’s passing.’

‘That—that isn’t true!’ Impa has taken the defensive, honestly shocked Zelda can describe her so awfully. ‘Don’t you recall, Princess? I asked you whether you prefer me stay. You barely hesitated, and _ordered me_ to leave. In fact, you demanded all the Champions, including I, to resign from our initial positions. I don’t think you gave any of us a _choice_ in the matter.’

‘Maybe not for them,’ Zelda is on her feet now, clearly distressed. ‘But _you_? When have you ever buckled to _any_ of my demands? That’s why I always enjoyed having you close. You— _you talked back_. You weren’t afraid to say _no_ to me, and—’ she stops. What’s the point? Impa has her story, and Zelda has her own. Clearly they’re in disagreement as to who is in the wrong, and it only rattles Zelda’s anger all the more.

Impa stands too. She rests her hands on Zelda’s shoulders.

‘Shall we let bygones be bygones? I’m here now.’

The temptation to fall into her arms, and be held, is overwhelming. However, Zelda remains glued to the floor. She looks up at Impa, expression beginning to soften. Seeing her now, to have her comforting presence, admittedly fills Zelda with a merciful joy she cannot describe. But she is still _mad_ at her, so she won’t smile, nor initiate a cuddle.

Not yet.

‘Link is to be wed,’ she says.

‘I heard,’ Impa replies. ‘Good for him, I say.’

‘Quite.’

‘How do you feel about the matter?’

‘I’m happy for him. I am happier for Mipha, though. She has always been so—’ _much better than I_. ‘Perhaps you would accompany me to their union?’

‘Of course,’ Impa smiles. She lowers her hands. ‘Honestly, I did wonder if those two had something going on. Whenever us three went on errands, they never made me feel like a third-wheel or anything, but… I don’t know. Just a hunch, you know? Plus, they were exceptional warriors, weren’t they?’

‘Link told me a few of stories from his childhood. How Lady Mipha helped raise him, even train him to become the soldier he is today. I suppose it is of no surprise they always worked well together.’

‘Princess, you are also at liberty to move on, as well.’ Impa folds her arms. ‘I, admittedly, am surprised you’re not feeling anything negative towards the union. It would be perfectly understandable if you were.’

‘Huh. Despite the rumours, Impa, it was never a mutual connection. Looking back now, it was a mere fancy on my part. I’ve never been in love.’

Impa raises her brows briefly, and says nothing.

‘Are you hungry?’

‘Ravenous,’ Impa grins. ‘Thirsty, too.’

‘I am sure we can spare you some water.’

‘You have my thanks, Princess, but honestly: I’d kill for something stronger.’

Minutes later, Zelda has escorted Impa to the kitchens. She informs the guards they need not disturb the cooks. She is confident Impa can arrange her own meal without professional help. While Impa browses the cupboards for food, Zelda grabs two glasses and a bottle of mead. It isn’t entirely appropriate for the occasion or meal, but it’s the best she has at the moment. Besides, Zelda doesn’t really drink.

Once the mead is poured, she holds a glass up to Impa, who gratefully accepts.

‘God save the Queen,’ and she downs it in one.

Zelda pauses the drink to her lips, wondering if Impa is being sarcastic.

The mead is a hot sweetness in her mouth, warming her body as she swallows. Zelda pours Impa another glass.

‘On your adventures, did you make any friends?’

‘Friends?’ Impa accepts her fresh glass. ‘Not exactly _friends_ , ma’am. I did meet some very interesting people, however.’

‘Oh.’

‘Some were most attentive,’ Impa smirks, downing the mead in one again.

Zelda twitches a smile. ‘Oh?’

‘Very hospitable. I did enjoy the, uh, friendliness of certain territories.’

Zelda snorts, and Impa laughs.

‘My God,’ Zelda murmurs, clearly amused. ‘You are incorrigible.’

‘Living life to its fullest while I’m still young.’

‘Nonsense. You’re young for a while yet. You don’t age exactly as Zora do, but you Sheikah aren’t too far off. I know some of your people who are over the age of one-hundred years, and they’re still kicking.’

‘And you, Princess?’

Zelda lowers the glass. ‘What about me?’

‘Have you met anybody of interest in my absence?’

‘No,’ Zelda answers honestly. ‘I have been busy with _other_ matters.’

Impa decides not to take her tone the wrong way. ‘Well, as you told me, you are still young yet. Only seventeen, are you not?’

‘Eighteen.’

‘What, since when?’

‘Since my birthdate, three months ago.’

‘Ah.’

By this point, Impa has completely forgotten her hunger. Guilt shreds her apart, realising she had forgotten Princess Zelda’s birthday.

‘I’m sorry—’

‘Please. No more apologies. It’s nothing important.’

‘It is to me,’ Impa replies, and Zelda can see just _how_ sorry Impa is. ‘You’re right. I’ve been a shit friend to you.’ Zelda glances at the doorway, hoping the guards hadn’t heard Impa’s foul language. Not that she really cares. In fact, she is touched Impa has recognised her poor behaviour. ‘I promise to make up for my mistakes.’

‘My dear friend, you already have. If it weren’t for you, Hyrule would no longer exist.’

‘I disagree. It was _you_ who saved us.’

‘And you who guided me, kept me safe. Kept me _sane_. Anyway, it’s just a birthday, Impa. I’ll have many more. I was kind of glad no celebrations were made. Because as grateful as I am for everybody’s help, it is _they_ , and _you_ , who deserve honours and blessings. Not I.’ Zelda turns away, leaning against the table. Impa doesn’t move. ‘I was _weak_. A mere child. A burden. And, I can never, _ever_ do justice for how _sorry_ I am for all the grief and turmoil I have caused.’

Impa is speechless, horrified by Zelda’s words. How long has she been thinking this way?

She knows Zelda has had her sincere doubts in the past, but to _still_ be beating herself up over something she had no control over—it breaks her heart.

‘I wish you saw yourself the way I see you.’

Zelda frowns, looking at her. ‘How do you see me?’

The atmosphere has drastically shifted, and Impa isn’t very good at conversations such as these. When things get too emotional, too intense, too _intimate_ even, Impa finds it easier to run away from the scenario. She can fight any monster or demon who crosses her path, and do it with a smile on her face, but to be open, to _be brutally honest_ about what plays on her heart and mind, it scares her more than anything.

Yet Zelda is almost _pleading_. She _needs_ this.

Needs to hear from somebody, _anybody_ , that she is wanted after all.

( _That she is not a bad person; she is **not** as evil as Calamity Ganon._)

Impa abandons her drink. She steps over to Zelda, and considers touching her, but retreats at once. Instead, Impa stands beside her, and she is quiet for a short while. Struggling to be emotionally vulnerable with another human being is _not_ easy.

But she can’t _bear_ witnessing Zelda in this state; how _cruelly_ she speaks of herself.

‘As you are.’

Zelda slumps slightly, underwhelmed by that response.

Yet Impa continues.

‘Everything. You are everything,’ her voice has lowered, so quiet Zelda can hardly hear. Yet Zelda’s heart stills at that simple word. _Everything_. ‘A purpose, a reason to live; the dream we aspire to be; a legend, a God—the reason why people find it in themselves to wake up, to fight, to love once more. The comfort on a dark day. Hope. And you never grew up to be like this. You always were. You _are_ this. I see you _exactly_ as you are: terrified, with a really _foul_ temper sometimes—’ Zelda stiffens, ‘—yet so powerful, you _scare_ me. So resilient, so devoted and _humble_ , the pressure on your shoulders enough to _break_ you, yet you push onwards.’

Zelda can’t think. Can’t speak.

Hardly breathe.

Never has she witnessed Impa like this, nor did she ever imagine such beautiful words could come from her. The fact Impa _sees her this way_ , and to Impa, she is _so much_. Too much. Zelda, for the first time in her life, feels whole. As if all the splintered pieces have slowly found their way back home, cradling her tired heart and aching head.

It is close to unbearable, however. To be seen.

Not _just_ as a God. Not _just_ as sovereign.

But human. A woman.

Something real, no longer made out of fiction or legend. A real woman, with a beating heart, who feels so much, and too much. Who is so desperate to do what is best, yet, as humans do, _fails_. Who has been so let down not only by her own father, but the Goddess she allegedly embodies. To have the world crash at her feet, and to fix it alone, to carry the weight of everybody on her shoulders, and not once complain.

And then, when it’s all over, to be abandoned. Just as she ought to be.

Zelda, a woman destined to be alone.

‘I didn’t know you could talk like that,’ she whispers. ‘How long have you thought all of this?’

Admittedly, it’s difficult to meet Impa’s gaze. Zelda’s cheeks have flushed, she feels warm, hot all over, and it’s almost _unbearable_ the way Impa watches her. Never, _ever_ has Zelda been looked at the way Impa looks at her.

 _Sees her_.

‘God knows.’

Zelda isn’t entirely sure when it happens, _how it happens_ ; whether she meant to, or if Impa was planning to beforehand. They kiss, and it is nothing as Zelda ever imagined kisses to be. It’s barely a feather’s touch, hesitant, as if both timid with one another, or scared of what they’re doing; what they want. It barely last a moment, a heartbeat, and Zelda struggles to open her eyes; afraid to face reality, knowing that whatever this is, whatever she is feeling, how close she is to _bursting_ , it is only temporary.

Everything for Zelda is always temporary. Nothing lasts, nothing survives, nothing stays.

She barely allows herself a glimpse, before allowing her senses to completely delude her. Zelda pushes herself forwards, her body hitting Impa’s, and then her arms are around her neck, hands touching her face, and they’re kissing again. This time, they’re not as uncertain. This kiss could not be _more_ certain, in fact, and a shudder travels up and down her spine as she endures Impa’s response.

Clearly Impa is way more experienced than Zelda, and she guides Zelda through her kisses, introducing her to what it’s like to express affection for another. If Zelda wasn’t so filled with euphoria, she would comment on how good of a kisser Impa is; how soft her skin is, like velvet beneath her fingertips. The fact she smells heavenly, and when she touches Zelda, she’s firm yet gentle. The security Zelda has always wanted.

As Zelda’s hands pull at Impa’s collar, close to _demanding_ , she moans softly when Impa bites tenderly on her lower lip, her tongue warm in Zelda’s mouth; excitement thrills Zelda with each passing second, and she allows herself to fulfil her curiosity for a moment. Her palms smooth down Impa’s shoulders, the muscles in her biceps, before meeting just above her chest, stopping there, her insecurities getting the better of her.

Their kisses grow more enthusiastic, deeper, almost frantic, and Zelda’s back is pushed into the table, Impa’s hands pressing into her hips, and she’s everywhere, intoxicating, and Zelda can hardly breathe, she might go _crazy—_

A gasp shatters Zelda’s reverie. It’s from herself.

Impa has stopped kissing her, and, for a second, Zelda is horrified she has done something wrong.

Then when she looks at Impa properly, she realises Impa hasn’t stopped because of _her_ necessarily. The two of them are quiet, and Impa hasn’t moved, still pressed up to her Princess. Another second passes, and, ‘I got ahead of myself back there.’

In all honesty, Zelda is too dazed to care.

‘You did?’

‘I wasn’t expecting that. From you.’

To Zelda’s disappointment (and minor relief), Impa steps back, separating them both from one another. Zelda wasn’t expecting _that_ from herself either. She has no idea what was going through her head when she kissed Impa, but it’s what she wanted; all she could think about. The very idea of _not_ kissing her would have driven her mad.

Maybe she already is.

Oh, Gods, what are they _doing_?

‘I’m sorry,’ Impa places her hands behind her back, almost as if trying to restrain herself. ‘That was _unlike_ me. Only, you never gave me the impression that you—’ Impa isn’t entirely sure what to add. That Zelda liked her? That Zelda wanted to kiss her? Or, maybe it’s just Zelda’s youth. Maybe she is confused, and Impa is merely being a negative influence. _I never knew you had it in you_ , she wants to tease, but this is neither the time or place. ‘I truly hope I have not made you feel uncomfortable.’

‘No,’ Zelda insists, catching her breath. ‘Never.’

Impa smiles, trying her best to relieve the tension between them. ‘I had best retire, as should you.’ She steps past Princess Zelda, ‘By the way…’ Zelda turns to look at her, expectant. ‘Don’t obsess over this. I assure you, you have nothing to worry about.’

Just as she was at her father’s funeral, Zelda has gone numb, but she can’t deny the frustrating thrill beginning to rise.

She just nods, silent as ever.

‘Good night, Your Highness,’ and, in only a couple of seconds, Impa has left, through the doors and out of sight.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: Mind Over Matter**

* * *

Unfortunately, obsessing over the kiss is all Princess Zelda has done.

Perhaps it was a mistake for Impa to leave her in such a state, because Zelda certainly struggled to sleep that evening. For some reason, her mind kept focussing on the kiss, over and over again. The way it felt, how she tasted, _how her hands felt against her_ , the fact Impa seemed to be into it as much as Zelda was.

But, they’re best friends! And best friends don’t kiss. Or, at least, best friends definitely don’t kiss _like that_. Whatever _that_ was. Zelda isn’t necessarily _timid_ about affection, however the last person she expected to be kissed by was Impa. In all fairness, though, Zelda hasn’t really had the time to think about kissing in general. Every now and again, she had considered kissing Link, or, more accurately, _asking_ him for one, but each time she prepared herself to ask, it just sounded so _daft_ and underwhelming anyway.

Aside from Link, of course, Zelda hasn’t really paid much attention to the opposite sex, or the same sex either. So distracted with accessing her powers, this probably shouldn’t come as a surprise. Yet, Zelda isn’t _blind_. She has enjoyed watching women, especially when in action; how gracefully they move, using their feminine physique to their advantage. While Link is exceptional in battle, there was something quite incredible about her female Champions with a blade. They were just _different_ to the men.

It’s not as if she doesn’t find Impa attractive. On the contrary, Impa is divine, and now Zelda has actually considered that thought, panic begins to sink in. Does she fancy Impa? If she enjoyed kissing her, then surely that means she does, right? Does Impa fancy _her_? Zelda stiffens. Because if Impa _does_ fancy her, then how long for, and why has she never made that clear? Then again, it _is_ Impa, who, to be brutally honest, isn’t very good at expressing emotions as tender as last night. Why would she tell Zelda such a thing?

Zelda _should_ be working on signing a few documents and letters, but instead, she stares blankly at the wall, genuinely trying to figure out if she prefers women over men. She even thinks about the more graphic details, annoyed to be blushing at the thought, and, really, neither seem very appealing to her. Perhaps she should bring these confused hesitations to Lady Urbosa. After all, Urbosa is a much more worldly woman, and Zelda wouldn’t be surprised if she has entertained not only men, but women too.

Besides, Urbosa would be patient with her, and explain what she might possibly be feeling.

That would have to wait, though. Zelda can’t exactly _leave_ the Castle and head to Gerudo Town whenever she pleases. There’s too much to attend to here, and she should _instead_ be addressing her duties, than worrying about a stupid, irrelevant kiss. It’s not as if she has to have it all figured out now.

For Hylia’s sake, why did Impa have to _kiss_ her?

 _Actually_ , Zelda’s thoughts respond, _you did kiss her back._

‘Shut up,’ she tells the air.

For the next few hours, Zelda manages to erase any thought of Impa and her lips from her mind. The Princess is able to get a significant amount of work done, and is almost relieved when one of her advisors informs her she has been invited to a foreign land overseas. The King, there, is keen to make his acquaintance and form an alliance. Sadly, King Rhoam was unable to maintain solid relationships with neighbouring countries due to the war, so the responsibility has been placed on Zelda’s shoulders.

Naturally the Princess accepts the invitation.

‘Maybe it would come off better, ma’am, if you invited King Pecasio here. Welcome him into our lands. What do you think?’

‘If you believe that is more appropriate, then lovely.’

As her advisor turns to leave, he adds, ‘The King is young, ma’am. Unmarried.’

Zelda’s eyebrow perks up. Then, she frowns, wondering what on earth her advisor could be implying. ‘Right.’ Her advisor doesn’t move for a short while, uncertain if Zelda has anything else to say. Obviously she doesn’t, so he clears his throat, and bows before leaving her alone. Once the door is shut behind him, she sighs loudly, dropping her pen. It couldn’t be more transparent what her advisor was implying.

In the very near future, Zelda would need to marry, and produce heirs of her own. It frustrates her slightly, that mere months ago she helped destroy a great evil, and already her Kingdom expects their Princess to be popping out babies. Zelda twitches a smile, certain her father hadn’t endured the same frustrations when he ascended the throne.

Marrying into other nations is always a great step towards peace. And strength, too.

Link and Mipha are marrying. Maybe it’s time Zelda should, as well. This King may be potentially be a good fit, too. Whatever his name is. She abandons her desk, walks round it and over towards the window. Zelda admires the vast views of Hyrule Kingdom, a land she has come to adore and cherish above everything else. At the very least, this Kingdom deserves a perfect King; a fair, kind one.

The hallways are cold this afternoon. Zelda carries a folder under her arm containing information she wishes her advisors to check and then deliver. As she passes a couple of guards, Zelda considers venturing to where her advisors are usually stationed, but, suddenly, changes her mind. Zelda turns to a nearby waiting guard.

‘Has Lady Impa visited today?’

Even saying her name sends her on edge. However, Impa is her most _trustworthy_ royal advisor. It is best she communicate with her, and not allow this kiss to jeopardise their friendship. The guard nods, and informs her Lady Impa is out on the training grounds. Zelda maintains a stoic expression as she heads in that direction, her heart beginning to pound erratically. She is annoyed with herself. Why is she nervous? This is _Impa_ , her closest ally. Somebody who would _die_ for her, who would give anything to make Zelda happy.

Which only makes the puzzlement a whole lot worse.

She finds Impa exactly where the guard stated. However, it looks as if Impa has finished training for the time being. She has stripped herself from the light brown outer wear, now revealing the sleeveless and fitted, dark blue layer beneath. It’s a flattering look, to say the least, and Zelda is honestly surprised to witness her no longer wearing her signature uniform. It has been some time since she has seen Impa _not_ in a professional manner, she supposes.

The kodachi sword rests on her hip, no longer in use, and Impa immediately acknowledges Zelda’s presence.

‘Your Highness,’ she bows briefly. ‘May I help you?’

‘Actually, yes,’ Zelda replies, voice stiff. She passes over the folder. ‘If you could have these sent to the military basecamp, as soon as possible. Before you do, though, I would appreciate your opinion on what has been reported.’ She avoids Impa’s gaze. ‘I had considered giving this duty to my other advisors, but you do possess a higher rank.’

While that is true, Impa’s duties focus more on the Princess’s protection rather than sending letters. Impa isn’t about to complain, though. It’s not as if she’s overworked at the moment. ‘No problem,’ she replies. There is a problem. She can tell. Zelda hasn’t looked at her once. Impa scratches the back of her head, thinking of how to diffuse the situation. ‘Sleep well?’

‘Yes,’ Zelda murmurs. ‘Training?’

‘Uh, _was_.’

‘Too bad. I was going to ask if I could join you.’

‘I am happy to resume, Your Highness. What particular training are you after?’

Zelda points to Impa’s blade. ‘I lack significant practice with swords, of any kind. I know my expertise is with a bow, but, if I am to be Queen, I think it’s only fitting I know how to wield all forms of weapons.’

Without a moment’s hesitation, Impa passes Zelda her own kodachi. ‘Here, take this.’

‘And what will you have?’

‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine.’ Zelda isn’t too sure if she likes the sound of that, but she doesn’t want Impa going _easy_ on her either. ‘First, your posture is incorrect.’ Zelda isn’t too joyous to hear that either. ‘Try not to stress too much, Your Highness. It makes you tense, and it’s almost impossible to move fluidly if you’re stiff all over.’

‘I get it. You want me looser.’

‘Heh,’ she chuckles, amused. ‘So to speak.’

Impa comes round to stand behind her, and helps Zelda stand in a better position, so she won’t topple over by the slightest nudge. As Impa returns to stand in front of the Princess, she suggests Zelda try and attack her, but not to worry about her own safety. Impa won’t fight back. She will simply defend herself.

A couple of years ago, Zelda would have been pretty useless at this, and she certainly wouldn’t have had the confidence to try. Yet, fighting a war does change a person. While she certainly isn’t as brilliant as Impa, she manages to land a few blows, and sometimes in quick succession. It becomes apparent that blades aren’t Zelda’s forté, but, all things considered, she isn’t doing too bad of a job.

There is something refreshing and thrilling about training too. Not to be chained to a desk all the time, and be stuck in boring, never ending meetings. To move, and to move freely, to be a warrior princess _—_ it’s all Zelda has ever truly wanted. Initially, she had perceived herself as a scholar, a woman who preferred books over manual labour. Over time, however, that preconceived notion of herself has changed.

She has also missed _this_ , with Impa. It has been years since they’ve trained together, and she always enjoyed Impa’s schooling. She is a firm, yet patient teacher. Similar to Urbosa in a sense, but younger. A friend she knows all too well. Impa is even able to have a laugh during these sessions, and not take the training too seriously. That’s what Impa offered her, what she _allowed_ Zelda to have: laughter, in a time so despairing and dark.

Impa informs Zelda she will fight back a little now. Not to cause harm, but to see if Zelda can maintain her balance and not allow Impa’s movements to distract her, or ruin her confidence. Still weapon-less, Impa dodges effortlessly from Zelda’s attacks; it’s almost infuriating how easy Impa makes it look, and she’s like water, dancing around the blade with an elegance which nearly leaves Zelda stunned.

There isn’t a chance Zelda can hit her. But she can try.

‘Put a little more weight into it, Princess. Don’t be afraid to use your strength.’

Zelda does her best to follow these new instructions, but her confidence is beginning to get the better of her. There is more power to be had, that’s for sure. Zelda can do better than this, but her mind has switched on again with all these silly, fleeting thoughts. For the first time, she tries to think of Link instead, but his face transforms into Mipha’s, her sweet, kind eyes, yet unwillingness to kneel before anybody.

Then to the woman in front of her. Zelda doesn’t want to admit she’s fond of Impa’s appearance, the blue really suits her, and, then, in one fluid motion, Impa produces some form of magic, and Zelda is knocked off her feet, back pressed to the earth.

Admittedly, she’s too distracted to acknowledge the fact the blade is no longer in her possession. Zelda idly watches Impa take it, throwing the blade up into the air, and catching it by the handle. Whilst Zelda sits upright, she can hear Impa chuckling. Something amuses her, and Zelda hopes she hasn’t been too obvious.

Impa offers her hand to help Zelda to her feet.

‘Nice work. I see a lot of promise.’

Zelda accepts her hand, and Impa forces her up. They don’t let go of each other immediately.

‘I require more practice. If only there was time.’

‘Well, should you ever find it, feel free to ask me.’

At some point, they must have released each other, but Zelda can’t be certain when. She inhales deeply, ‘Thank you. I should return inside the Castle. Please, don’t forget to have those sent to the military basecamp,’ she points to the folder, waiting on the ground. Impa simply nods. ‘How are you finding it being back here?’

Slightly puzzled by that question, Impa keeps her answer brief, ‘No complaints, ma’am.’

‘Very well.’

‘You were distracted earlier.’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘You _—_ ’ Impa tries again, ‘Earlier, the only reason you fell was because you were distracted. Is there something on your mind?’

 _The cheek_ , Zelda thinks. ‘No.’

‘Should you ever need somebody to talk to, about anything…’

‘It’s nothing,’ Zelda whispers, casting her gaze to the skies. ‘Clearly the days ahead are rather tedious, because all I can think about are matters not even worth considering.’ She lowers her head, then slowly looks back at Impa. ‘Is it wicked that I miss the war, sometimes? Not for all that was lost, but _—_ _for that shared purpose_. That time when we weren’t all separate domains, with separate identities and politics. When we were all one, a unified race of Hyruleans. I miss that. I miss the Champions, my friends.’

‘That is understandable.’

‘I miss him, too.’

A shadow of an emotion passes Impa’s face.

It’s fleeting. Gone too fast for Zelda to establish what that emotion was.

‘Well, he isn’t _gone_ , Your Highness. You need only venture to Zora’s Domain, or request to have him sent here.’

‘Thing is, Impa, I… don’t even know if it’s _him_ I miss, or the idea of him. What I saw in him that he didn’t have.’ She walks over to the edge of the training grounds, wondering whether she must be talking madness. ‘Honestly, you would think I have nothing better to do, than fret over my own silly problems.’

‘I wouldn’t call them _silly_ , Princess.’

‘You are much too polite to say otherwise.’ Zelda faces her, hands behind her back. ‘Surely, you must agree that the monarch should not waste time worrying over a _boy_. That is ridiculous, and so _weak_ of me.’

‘I think it’s normal to think about people, especially in that regard. Even for Princesses such as yourself. Only, last night, you gave me the impression you no longer felt this way for him. Was I wrong?’

Zelda shakes her head, exasperated. ‘No. I suppose that’s where the confusion lies.’

‘I see.’ Impa sheathes the kodachi blade. ‘Your father always made it clear to me you tended to get lost in your own thoughts from time to time.’ Before Zelda can defend herself, Impa continues softly, ‘That isn’t a bad thing, you know? It shows you care about others. Believe me, there aren’t enough sovereigns who care as deeply as you.’

‘Thank you,’ Zelda replies in a hurry, not sure if she can handle further flatteries from Impa. ‘I didn’t realise you were privy to private conversations with my late father,’ her tone has gone cold, a chill in the atmosphere.

Impa does her best to ignore it. ‘He appointed me as royal advisor. To _him_. When he assigned me to ensure your safety, I believe your father simply wanted me to know what you were like, and he did so out of love, I’m sure. Despite the way your father tended to treat you, he definitely wanted the best for you.’

Of course Zelda hasn’t forgotten when her father apologised, admitting his faults; that he had been a cruel father. That it wasn’t Zelda who was failing all this time, but himself. It had upset her, hearing him say such things, but it had been a huge relief for him to _realise_. Her father was only strict and, at times, cruel with her because he was scared.

Scaring of losing his daughter. Scared of the fate forced upon her. Angry at the Goddesses for the prophecy.

‘I think it’s him I miss.’

‘That is perfectly understandable.’

‘Do you ever miss yours, Impa? Your parents?’

‘I never knew them,’ she replies, almost casually. ‘Maybe I’m fortunate in that regard.’

‘Oh,’ Zelda breathes. ‘I’m sorry.’

‘No need. Like I said, I never knew them, so, therefore, no attachments were made. You needn’t share your sympathies for what never was, Your Highness.’ Impa tilts her head, aware of Zelda’s silence. ‘It is Purah who knows more about them. She is the older sister, after all. However, the two of us have never really cared to _—_ _ask_ about our parents. We simply know they died together. Purah and I raised each other.’

‘It is truly remarkable,’ Zelda says, and she means it. ‘But terribly sad.’

‘Why are you sad?’ Impa laughs shortly. ‘You are sensitive at times. Don’t be sad for me.’

To not feel sad for such an unfortunate situation _—_ that’s almost impossible for Zelda, especially when it concerns somebody she cares _so much_ for. Impa is so intelligent, so strong. A wild spirit; she never once has blamed the world for her grief, all that she has missed out on. She takes each day as it comes, and she is, if anything, just grateful to be alive.

‘I don’t understand why we’ve never discussed this.’

‘Why would we?’ Impa shrugs, and her carelessness for the sincere reminds Zelda of Purah. ‘I’m not important. I am here to keep you safe, not to talk about my childhood. To serve Her Royal Highness is my purpose.’

Slowly, Zelda moves closer towards Impa, who, perhaps unintentionally, takes a cautious step back. ‘You’re wrong,’ Zelda argues. ‘You _are_ important. Especially to me.’ Her breath catches, trying to find the right words, and then they just _burst_ out, ‘You mean a great deal to me, Impa, and I would be devastated if you thought otherwise.’

‘You are generous, Princess.’

‘And I value our friendship above all others. You have always been loyal, ignoring the fact you _did_ leave me for several months after the war.’

‘Technically _—_ ’

‘I _know_ I did dismiss you, but to not have you here, I missed you the most.’

‘I missed you too.’

Zelda wasn’t expecting such an honest, and speedy response. A warmth cascades her body, reassured that the feeling was mutual. Missing each other. As friends do. As torn souls do, always destined to be near each other.

‘A lot,’ Impa adds. Her gaze flickers away. ‘Too much.’

How they have landed on yet another sensitive subject baffles Zelda. The two, before the war, had conversed every now and again about more personal topics, but never quite like this. Whether their kiss had erupted something new in them, brought to life a hidden want neither were truly aware of until now.

Or, maybe Zelda has always been aware of it, but merely ignored it.

‘You were on my mind,’ Zelda admits, feeling defeated. ‘That’s why I fell, earlier. That’s why I let down my guard.’ Impa doesn’t speak, watching, listening, and she is impossible to read again. Zelda won’t even try to guess what must be going on in her mind. ‘I find myself thinking about you a lot of the time, and it’s honestly exhausting.’

To her surprise, Impa smiles, and it’s sympathetic.

‘It’ll pass, Your Highness.’

Unfortunately, and to Zelda’s grief, it doesn’t look as if Impa is going to be equally as open about her emotions. In fact, Zelda feels rather stupid for being so _expressive_. To just have _it’ll pass_ flung at her honestly angers the Princess, but she shouldn’t jump to conclusions so fast. Impa’s expression is a mirror of how she looked last night: this distant, yet beautiful tenderness Zelda has never witnessed from another person.

Zelda scowls.

‘And, I’ve never been kissed before.’

That is when Impa’s expression drops. Now Zelda has finally brought it out into the open, addressed the most crucial matter between them _finally_ , and all of Impa’s defences break down. Her breathing has accelerated a little, her eyes a little wider, and Zelda can’t tell if she’s nervous, shocked or both.

Power switches between them. Zelda has control now, but she waits for a response, _any response_ , from Impa. However, she just stands there, and it’s an ironic contradiction to all that Impa _is_ : a fearless warrior, and so _precise_ in battle. Yet, for her to just _stand_ and _stare_ , without even a word, it makes Zelda wonder if there’s more to this woman than meets the eye. Whether that kiss _was_ worth obsessing over.

Zelda inhales deep, trying to regain her composure.

‘… I liked it,’ she whispers, closing her eyes, ‘… to be kissed by you.’ Zelda narrows her brows, eyes still shut. ‘I wish I could understand why.’

When she faces Impa again, the Sheikah is still in the exact same position. She’s frozen in place, yet listening intently to every word. Her mind has gone blank, Zelda’s words fluttering from ear to ear _I liked it… to be kissed… by you_. Impa exhales shakily, realising her body has begun to tremble. Nobody has ever made her feel this way before.

Zelda decides to be merciful.

‘I seem to have got ahead of myself,’ she says, mimicking Impa’s words from last night; almost _mocking_ her, and it’s a challenge Impa recognises. ‘You’re right: it’ll pass, and I suppose I am young. How should I understand anything at my age?’

‘I think you understand more than you realise,’ Impa speaks for the first time, her voice admittedly lighter than usual.

‘Do I?’ Zelda’s voice, however, is dry. Almost flat. ‘I shouldn’t take more of your time. Please, have those reports sent before the day is over,’ and she begins to make her way back inside the Castle, a reluctance and anger beginning to twist inside of her. She would have liked Impa to have said _something_ helpful, something to reassure her, but, instead, Zelda was only met with silence and, _oh, God_ , how useless!

What a pointless deliberation. Zelda is willing to believe the subject is now officially dropped, and she merely injured her own pride for no reason.

However all the negativity swarming in her head and tearing at her heart need not matter. It’s barely evening when Zelda decides to retire to her private quarters, but just before she dresses herself for bed, there is a knock at the door.

Zelda halts. Then, cautiously, greets her visitor.

‘I thought we should talk, maybe…’ Impa’s sentence trails off, but despite her unusually withdrawn appearance, she manages to hold Zelda’s gaze. This isn’t a maybe, it is a must. All the things Zelda has said and confessed to her have spoken volumes. More than volumes. They _have_ meant something, and before their friendship is completely destroyed, perhaps it is best they have a chat. And be honest.

Feeling nervous and all kinds of uncertainty, Zelda opens the door wider, allowing Impa to step inside.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Peril**

* * *

Had she the opportunity to give her life, so she could spare those lost, she would do so in a heartbeat. What Zelda endures _—_ it isn’t grief in the strictest sense, but something different. Almost inhumane, and not necessarily an emotion considered normal by many. This emptiness is usually described as dark; a heavy bleakness, gnarling its way from the heart to the brain. Zelda doesn’t endure it as such. If anything, the world is just too bright; an infinite openness, with no stability, no grounding; she feels lost in a whirlwind of sheer nothingness.

Except now.

Now, this gaping wound seems to string itself back together. Zelda has never been able to think about anything other than _what she lacks_. Every day is a punishment. Every day is yet another day for failure. Every day brings death, and the world frowns at its so-called Princess. Now, though, she thinks about _—_ _what makes her happy_. And the Princess can’t help but feel guilty about that. To be given this gift, which is almost uplifting. To think about something _other_ than death, than Calamity Ganon, than those who abandoned her, or died.

She is _happy_ that Impa came to find her, to talk. It is probable Princess Zelda has read too much into their kiss, but she is within her rights to _challenge_ it. In all honesty, it is Zelda who is most in the wrong. After all, Impa is technically a subject. While there was always a chance for either of them to say _no_ , to _not_ let the kiss continue, neither buckled, and Zelda is wise enough to know there’s a reason why. The woman isn’t asking for commitment or anything of the sort, just plain answers. Honesty. Perhaps the most understated gift of all.

They are friends. That, in itself, should concrete this conversation.

‘It’s a little cold in here,’ is Impa’s first observation, clearly avoiding the elephant in the room. ‘Don’t you get cold?’

‘Sometimes,’ Zelda replies. ‘Is that really wanted you wanted to discuss?’

Knowing she can’t withhold the subject for long, Impa decides it best to get straight to the point. She rests a hand on her hip, managing to meet Zelda’s eyeline. Before arriving here, Impa had considered what to say. For _hours_. On her way to the military basecamp, she initially felt it best to simply _flee_ from the topic as a whole. What Zelda confessed had shocked her, and, although Impa has entertained relationships before, she would never _dare_ tease the idea of one with her Princess. Surely that is treading on treason.

Not to mention impractical. Zelda need not worry about Impa’s loyalty, but Impa does _serve_ Zelda; they are also very different people. Of course, there is also the glaring fact that Princess Zelda will need to provide heirs of her own, and Impa can’t exactly help her in that regard. In the end, Impa realised, she would only be thinking about all these things if she _did_ feel something too.

Because she does. And that’s somewhat disappointing. If asked how _long_ she has felt anything for Zelda, she wouldn’t be able to answer. Impa has always had a soft spot, a _very_ soft spot, for Zelda. Wanting to help her, cheer her up, _save her life_. She hasn’t forgotten the time when Zelda escaped Impa’s protection, just so she could spare Link. Of course, so lost in the battle, Impa never really considered how that action, alone, _did_ upset her. It’s stupid, because if Zelda hadn’t done that, then she wouldn’t have been able to access her powers and, as a result, save Hyrule.

Only after it was all over did the event truly sink in. Perhaps the trauma of the war didn’t help, but Impa didn’t need to be asked twice when Zelda suggested her dismissal. Temporary as it was, Impa honestly didn’t know whether she would return or not. It was clear to her that Link came first, that Link was her hero, that it was _always about Link_.

When Impa heard about the silent knight’s marriage to Lady Mipha, the first person she thought of was Zelda. Link and Mipha were subtle about their feelings for one another, but they _are_ private people in general. Zelda, on the other hand, wears her heart on her sleeve. She is so terribly honest and open about every single emotion she suffers, and now these emotions are being hurled in Impa’s direction.

She had come here to discuss what had occurred, but there is more to their confusion than a simple kiss. Neither have talked about the war. Not once. As if the two can’t _bear_ returning to such a horrible time. Zelda may miss the connections she made, but the actual events, those who died, the horrors they witnessed. Zelda had only just turned seventeen, and even though she’s only a year older now, she was _so much younger_ then. So vulnerable, ignorant and scared.

 _Hating_ herself.

Cursing her very existence, and wishing to die.

Link had seen a few moments in which Zelda had broken down, but Impa witnessed all of them. Link was her knight in shining armour, but Impa her constant. A guardian Zelda never truly appreciated was there, until it was too late. In her absence did Zelda realise just how necessary Impa was in her life; just how bleak and _haunting_ the world is without Impa there beside her. The amount of times Impa embraced her, wiped her tears; yet also slapped sense into her, practically shouting at her to _snap out of it_ , that she _is_ stronger than she believes; that she isn’t a burden, and it is an _honour_ to serve and protect such a kind, wonderful and generous person. It is an honour to stand beside her, and not even be thanked.

To see her grow into the woman she is now, how powerful and confident and infuriatingly stubborn Zelda has become _—_ Impa begins to wonder just how much longer she will require Impa’s services. This isn’t a child anymore. No longer the failed daughter, the disappointing Princess, but a true monarch.

A brilliance she cannot touch.

When Impa saw her unleash those powers she only heard about in legend, she has not recovered since. What she witnessed was ungodly, a catastrophic light which sucked the life out of everything it touched. How somebody with such a fragile soul could manipulate such terror is beyond Impa, and, sometimes, she wonders if the irony is cruel. The moment those powers were revealed, she was already losing her. She was already slipping away.

There have been others before her, in legend, whom protected the Princess; kept a close watch on her, vowed to keep her safe. She would love to ask if them if they ever felt the same way. Or, was it different for them? Was it not like losing a friend, but a child? To have these doomed prophecies come true before her eyes, to see it all happen, this destructive force no man or woman should possess _—_

_Is that really what you wanted to discuss?_

‘No,’ Impa answers. ‘You see, Princess, I had it all worked out in my head what I was going to say.’

‘And?’

‘And,’ she sighs, ‘what I was going to say, it doesn’t matter. I implore you not to worry about my loyalty to you, but I’m beginning to wonder if it best I _—_ well, give you space. Perhaps I cause you more trouble than anything, especially now the war is over. Besides, it was not you who appointed me.’

‘The man who appointed you is dead,’ Zelda’s voice catches. ‘I don’t want space. I never _asked_ for space.’

‘Maybe _I_ need space, then,’ Impa snaps, exasperated. She immediately regrets her tone. ‘I’m sorry.’

Zelda walks past her. Impa can smell her perfume.

‘I am no longer a child,’ Zelda speaks, voice firm again. ‘You needn’t worry about what I require anymore. If it is _you,_ however, who is struggling then I accept your resignation.’

There. On the final word.

Resignation.

Zelda’s voice split. A tear in her fortitude.

Of course, resigning was the last thing on Impa’s mind, and she knows Zelda doesn’t mean what she says. Despite her insistence, the Princess can still be young at heart. She feels threatened, her anger has spiked, and she’s so afraid Impa will leave her, Zelda believes the best possible action is to be rid of her first.

That is her insecurities speaking. All of the betrayal she has had to endure. 

She watches Zelda pace for a few seconds. Then, she sits on the edge of her bed, shoulders slumped, and refusing to look at her.

‘I thought you were my friend.’

‘I _am_ , Princess,’ Impa manages to maintain a gentle tone, but there’s hint of impatience in her voice. ‘I did apologise _—_ I shouldn’t have bit at you earlier. What I’m trying to say is _—_ ’

‘ _Please_. Please, why don’t you tell me what it is you are _trying_ to say.’ Zelda glares at her, tears beginning to flood her eyes. ‘You have not been honest with me _once_ since your return, and, sometimes, when we do _talk_ , it’s like trying to get blood from a stone.’

‘At times, Your Highness _—_ ’ Impa watches, helpless, as hot tears trickle down Zelda’s cheeks, ‘ _—_ it is difficult to ascertain what I _can_ say in my position.’

‘And what position is _that_?’ Zelda looks away, shaking with anger. ‘How I _wish_ to be in any position at all.’

Impa kneels down before her, and reaches out to wipe a few stray tears with the pad of her thumb. Zelda allows her to for a brief while, before flinching away from her touch. She throws Impa another glower, but there is pain riddled in those tired, teary eyes. Deciding it best not to push anything, Impa retreats.

Retreats far enough to give Zelda room to breathe, anyway. She sits on a nearby chair, actually quite guilty. True, Impa hasn’t been very transparent lately, and she’s sure the kiss only added to Zelda’s confusion. Impa would blame the kiss on other factors, such as they were simply good friends who missed one another, but she doesn’t remember kissing a friend like that before.

It did feel good. It felt _really_ good.

Despite what Zelda may believe, Impa hasn’t been able to stop thinking about it either. She just never thought in a million years Zelda would struggle herself. Impa is capable of moving on, she doesn’t allow herself a broken heart, and when there is potential rejection, Impa won’t bother seeking the relationship.

Zelda, on the other hand, can’t even _budge_.

‘I fear I have abused my privileges enough as it is,’ Impa starts slow, and makes an effort to ensure her voice is calm and soft. ‘Kissing you was a mistake, and I can’t apologise enough. I promise you, it won’t ever happen again.’

A whisper. Zelda whispers something so quiet, Impa can’t hear.

Then Zelda drags a hand down her wet face, mascara smudged, eyes puffy; she must look a _state_ , but she can’t bring herself to care right now. Because, right now, she has to deal with Impa’s confession: a _mistake_. It’s a _mistake_.

Their kiss was a mistake.

‘How charming,’ she hisses.

‘Would you rather I lie?’ Impa tries. ‘We both know it shouldn’t have happened. If I had any idea it would have made you feel _—_ _this_ , then I _—_ I would have _—_ _I wouldn’t have done it_.’

‘You are,’ Zelda breathes, ‘the most incredible woman I know. And yet, you can be so _dim_.’

Slightly insulted, Impa stiffens, not sure how to respond to that. She has never been accused of _dimness_ before, and for it to come from Zelda is extremely personal.

Zelda stands. As she walks over to where Impa is seated, the Sheikah warrior begins to feel self-conscious, and _very_ aware of herself. Her heart skips a beat when Zelda stops before her, before placing her hands on either side of the chair.

Her beautiful face is torn with tragedy. So pulled towards whatever it is they share, yet something forbidden. It is unusual to see Impa actually _surrendering_ to her, not moving, not speaking; waiting for her punishment, waiting for Zelda to dismiss her for good.

For it to hurt. And bleed.

‘You don’t understand.’

‘Understand what? What am I not getting?’

Zelda can feel Impa’s words against her lips, aware her breathing has accelerated, heat has risen to her cheeks; her pupils have dilated slightly. To observe somebody in such detail, how their body changes around her, is exhilarating. An aching hunger drives deep. Zelda’s gaze drops to Impa’s hands, clasped together in her lap, and when she meets her gaze again, Zelda realises just how much power she does hold over this woman. She has trapped her here.

Yet Impa makes no attempt to flee. To fight back.

It dawns on her that Zelda wasn’t necessarily speaking to her just then, but to _herself_. She doesn’t understand _herself_ ; doesn’t understand all these thoughts, these feelings she doesn’t recognise. This excitement which is so overwhelming, she could be sick. And she hopes Impa can guide her, ease her out of this agony, but they both know that won’t be easy; and may not be possible.

Some people feel so deeply, and Zelda is one of those people.

‘You can’t abandon my side again,’ Zelda whispers, tears freely falling from her eyes. ‘I forbid it.’

Impa carefully brushes the back of her hand across Zelda’s cheek, gaze beginning to drift. ‘You have my word.’ And Zelda believes her, fully. She places all her trust in her, this one person, as infuriating and clever as they are.

Impa is aware that the young Princess is trembling too much; she needs to calm down, to not feel so _defensive_ around her. But before Impa can suggest such, she is taken completely off guard when Zelda does something more daring.

When Zelda straddles her hips, sitting over her lap, Impa, is, initially frozen in place. And when Zelda kisses her, it’s harsh; rough. It begins panicked, and rushed. Zelda is trying her best to maintain control of the scenario, and Impa is willing to give her that _—_ for the moment. She allows Zelda to make her mark; bite her lip, push her up into the chair, press her palms almost possessively into her body, _tug at her_. For the moment, Impa gives her that.

Until she breaks the kiss, only angering Zelda more.

Yet Zelda is silenced all too soon. Now, it’s Impa’s turn, and she wraps her arms around Zelda, practically _smiling_ into the kiss as she cuddles Zelda close to her. _Too close_. Perfectly close. Zelda groans lightly into her mouth, scrunching up Impa’s top with her fists, yearning for her to be nearer, pressed into her, to satisfy what has been driving her insane for hours and hours.

It feels like a dream. An illusion. It doesn’t feel real.

To be this way with another, to be this way with her _—_

Zelda gasps, gasps again at the sensation of Impa’s lips on her neck, scattering kisses to her collarbone, and a jolt of heat rushes from Zelda’s core to between her thighs. She helps Impa, tugging at her blouse, unbuttoning it in such a hurry, she’s actually struggling. Fortunately, her advisor’s hands are much more stable, but Zelda notices hesitation for a split second.

Privileges are most certainly being abused here.

‘Your Highness _—_ ’

‘I want this.’

Their eyes meet. And Zelda has never been more certain about anything.

‘I want _you_.’

No invitation, no demand, could be clearer.

Everything is tossed aside. Their ranks, their history, their war. Finally equal, as Impa initiates them to their feet, kissing Zelda the whole while as she encourages her back onto the bed. Zelda is breathless, clinging to her, almost afraid Impa may leave any second.

It is nothing like Zelda imagined it to be. She expected herself to be completely submissive at least, or to back down, or do something to ruin it all. Yet, she realises there is no _demand_ , no competition. For a short while, she worries about the fact her kisses will taste bitter from her tears, that her chapped lips may damage Impa’s enjoyment, but Impa doesn’t seem to notice.

What she does notice is Zelda herself. Her mouth pressed against her, her tongue wet and hot between her teeth, her breasts so tenderly caressed beneath her palms. To have her body kissed, Zelda feels electrified, head pressed into the pillow as she gasps, pulls, moans loudly when Impa eventually switches her attention to where Zelda craves her most. Her tongue against her clit, sucking softly as Zelda writhes, tosses and turns, arches her back _—_

‘ _Impa_ ,’ she exclaims in a whisper.

A flood of relief shudders through her when she finally comes, and it’s the most beautiful sight Impa has seen and heard. Zelda is expressive in her orgasm, face almost _gleeful_ , tugging at Impa’s hair, pressing her heel into her shoulder blade as her loyal companion coaxes another climax out of her.

This one doesn’t take as long. She tries her best to be quiet, but she can’t, _her body is about to burst_ , and she cries out Impa’s name, a sharp, desperate sound which nearly makes Impa go too. So only to allow the Princess a moment to catch her breath, Impa pauses, raising herself up and wiping her mouth with the back of her hand.

In the little light, Zelda stares up at her, and she is breath taking. Zelda’s eyes follow the curve of her waist and hips, her flat stomach, and rounded breasts; the tensed muscles in her torso, arms and legs. How her hair only compliments the gorgeous tone of her skin, and Zelda is simply awed at the sight before her.

Before any compliment can be made or shown, Impa leans over to kiss Zelda’s mouth. It’s odd, tasting herself, but Zelda doesn’t mind as she returns their kiss with enthusiasm, more confident this time, more assured. She’s wet against her as they roll over in the bed, and Zelda’s eyes shutter closed in pleasure when she realises just how excited Impa is for her.

‘I _—_ I’m not sure _—_ how good I’ll be _—_ ’

‘Shh,’ Impa takes Zelda’s hand, and directs her to where she’s needed. ‘Don’t worry,’ she exhales, so warm and wonderful against her. ‘It is daunting at first.’ She kisses her, soft. ‘You’ll be lovely.’

Zelda tries to focus, and manages to find her clit quite quickly. Initially, she starts with slow, circular motions with her finger, watching for any signs of approval or, disapproval.

It is tricky to tell, though. Unlike she, Impa is quiet. She breathes a little heavier, pulling Zelda closer to her, and then they’re kissing again. Zelda adds harder friction, going faster, and she almost rejoices when Impa finally gives her a reaction. Her kisses are greedier, hurried, and Zelda gasps out when Impa tenses all over, silent as ever, but her body betraying her as she cums _—_ it’s long, and intense, and Zelda is slightly amazed she was able to do this for her.

A sigh, and a soft moan passes Impa as she encourages Zelda to lie beside her. Without a word, she pulls Zelda into a cuddle, kissing her cheek, her mouth, and they rest for a couple of minutes, catching their breath, and simply enjoying being together. Zelda has never felt more comfortable with another person, and she has not felt safer either.

Nor loved. They may not speak those words, but she can feel it from her. What has been buried for quite some time.

‘You okay?’

Zelda opens her eyes, ‘Me?’

She is startled when Impa abandons the bed, but Impa reassures her she isn’t going anywhere. In a second, she has lit a candle in the room, so they now at least have some light to share. As Impa returns to bed, she spreads the sheets over them, hiding their vulnerable selves to the rest of the world _—_ for it to be just them, alone, with no demands, no questions, just _them_.

There is a satisfied exhaustion in her eyes when Impa looks at her, and then she smiles crookedly.

‘You truly are remarkable, Your Highness.’

‘I think Zelda is more appropriate now, don’t you agree?’

‘Huh, you might be right.’

Zelda smirks, teasing, and, ever so briefly, Impa reflects on her words, what they potentially mean. Yet she goes distant again, and Zelda wishes she could read her mind. They both know first-name basis is not appropriate, and neither is what occurred, but, Zelda thinks, can they at least enjoy what they have before the night is gone?

‘Come here.’

Then Zelda is held close, and as much as she tries to stay awake, to treasure what she has, and what _has_ happened, dreams soon sweep into her heavy head, catching her, lifting her.

But just before she’s completely away, Impa draws her into one more kiss, a promise of what may yet fall into place. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: A Royal Affair**

* * *

It must have been a dream, or some hysteric illusion. As she plays in her mind what happened, she tries to convince herself it can’t have been possible. All she has are flashes, moments; staggered pieces to what might as well be a fantasy. Yet, the feeling is there; it’s present, and it follows her wherever she goes. That feeling is heavy, almost burdensome. The excitement raw, as she recalls how she kissed her, where she put her hands, how she _touched_ her, and it was all for Zelda. A special, unique attention which made her gasp and cry out, and to be given love _like that_ , she needs to catch her breath every so often.

Her. Oh, Gods, all Zelda can think about is _her_ , and how much she wants _more_ of her. Their first kiss was a mere _tease_ for what was to come, and, my God, did Zelda come. She doesn’t know how long she has wanted her royal advisor for, whether this desire is completely new, or if it’s been present for years, but she’s never truly acknowledged it. What does it matter now? They’ve stepped over the barrier of what draws them apart: royalty and her servant. Zelda can’t help but feel quite chuffed with it all, but she is very aware of the fact it cannot happen again.

That morning, they had managed to be civilised with one another, and as much as Zelda wanted to, they didn’t kiss nor initiate another meeting of this kind. What Zelda did _not_ tell Impa was the fact that even by _looking at her_ , this monster she has awakened was growling for more attention. She wonders if she _should_ have told Impa, just to witness her reaction. Would she have jumped at the offer, or recognised her position after all, and declined? Would Impa turn her down if Zelda invited her to sleep with her again? Even if it were only once more. Just once more. Surely once more _—_

No. No, _don’t be daft_. Zelda is a _Princess_ , for goodness sake, and soon to be Queen. Not to mention she has a delectable suitor visiting soon.

Shit.

Zelda nearly jumps up from her seat.

 _You stupid girl!_ How could she have forgotten? So infatuated with Impa, she completely forgot about King Pecasio, who rules a foreign country. The fact her advisors, or some of them, are suggesting Zelda take an interest in the royal bachelor. Zelda feels sick to her stomach. Should she inform Impa? Or, perhaps she ought to respect what is private and what is public. It’s none of Impa’s business how Zelda chooses to manage her love life. But, that’s just cruel, considering Impa is practically right in the middle of it. Zelda almost slaps herself. She doesn’t want to regret sleeping with her, because, damn it, sleeping with Impa is all she can think about right now. However, she has to prioritise her duty.

Surely, she isn’t the first royal to be put in such a bizarre, confusing and painful predicament.

Word is given to Princess Zelda on the King’s arrival.

‘In fact, Your Highness, he is so honoured by your invitation, he hopes to join you tomorrow evening.’

‘Tomorrow?’ Zelda widens her eyes.

‘I can, of course, delay.’

‘No,’ Zelda says slowly. ‘Tomorrow works perfectly.’

‘Very good.’

 _You have to tell her._ Zelda swallows. _You have to tell her, she’s your closest advisor._

Unless Impa already knows? Perhaps the staff have already informed her of such fabulous news. _Our Princess may marry!_ She imagines Impa’s reaction. That she would either be overjoyed by the news, and congratulate Zelda, or be absolutely devastated to have been lied to. Zelda resents herself for wishing it be the latter, the greedy side of her wanting it to become clear whether Impa truly _does_ care. Then again, she would never wish her dear friend harm, so if Impa does respond positively, then _—_

A sudden urge to be close to Impa dominates Zelda temporarily.

She has never felt this way for somebody before.

_Tell me what to do._

_Tell me what I should say to you, because you always advise me well, and I can’t bear the idea of hurting you._

_Tell me what to do._

Zelda makes her decision within the hour. She informs her secretary to send a few orders for Lady Impa: as representative to Her Highness, Impa will visit Zora’s Domain, and congratulate the happy couple with gifts which Princess Zelda will have arranged before Impa’s departure. Afterwards, Impa will travel to her older sister’s lab, and have Terrako returned to Hyrule Castle. Something to show to His Majesty during his stay. A piece of living history from the war against Calamity Ganon.

All of these errands should take approximately three to four days. This will give Zelda time to figure out whether she likes King Pecasio, and if she does, then she will have more ground when she approaches Impa on the matter. Yet as she gives her secretary these commands, Zelda has to try hard to not admit she will miss her so much. That this isn’t _really_ what she wants, but it’s for the best. Impa, for the time being, needs to be out of the way. It’s not as if the orders Zelda has given her are pointless either.

Within minutes of her secretary delivering these commands, Zelda hears a knock at the door. She allows the visitor to enter, although she has a good idea of who it is.

Seeing Impa sends her heart wild, and she needs to concentrate on _not_ showing that when she addresses her royal advisor with faultless professionalism. ‘How may I help you?’

As is regulation, Impa bows, but it’s brief and Zelda notices a slight lack of sincerity.

‘Your Highness, forgive my confusion, but I’ve allegedly received orders from you to visit _—_ ’

‘Zora’s Domain, yes, and then Purah. I assume my secretary filled you in on the details?’

Impa frowns. ‘Sort of.’

‘Right, well, there you have it.’

‘Before I depart, then, I require these rumoured gifts I am to deliver to Princess Mipha.’

There’s a sharp coldness in her tone, and Zelda knows Impa can see right through her façade.

‘Give me a few minutes. I will have them sent to you.’

‘I hope you have given thought into them. My apologies if I sound discourteous, but this exchange seems so out of the blue, I am concerned Her Highness may not have thought matters over clearly.’

‘Well, rest assured, I have.’ A pause. ‘You are welcome to inspect these items. Hopefully, they will meet to your standards.’

‘If they exist, I am confident they shall.’

‘Excuse me?’

Then, to Zelda’s fury, Impa laughs. It’s soft, but almost mocking.

‘Be blunt with me, Your Highness. Am I wrong to assume it’s… _more_ than a coincidence that you are sending me away, after what occurred between us?’

‘Yes, you are wrong. I have you sent on errands many times.’

‘Right.’

‘It has nothing to do with _—_ ’ she meets her eyes, ‘ _—_ _us_.’

And how much Zelda hates how unconvincing she sounds. Of _course_ it’s about them, and, no, it is _not_ a coincidence that Impa is being hurried away after Zelda had sex with her. Much to Zelda’s frustration, she wants nothing more than to walk over, kiss her, and have Impa touch her the way she did the prior evening. The excitement makes her breathless, almost _blind_ , but she has to _focus_ ; has to not feel anything when she looks at her.

She has to be cruel, and she has to punish Impa for an act she did not initiate.

There is a long, challenging silence between them. Impa doesn’t move, waiting for Zelda to, at the very least, dismiss her. After all, as her subject, she can’t simply _leave_ the room. Everything is down to Zelda. She dictates Impa’s life, where she goes, who she meets and, now, who she can’t see. Zelda isn’t entirely sure whether Impa _will_ walk away, and quit.

It is so transparent what Zelda is doing.

Then, finally, Zelda finds her voice: ‘I want you gone before sunset.’

‘Understood.’

‘You’ll write to me when you arrive at the Domain, so I know you have arrived safely.’

‘As you wish.’

‘When you visit Purah, I grant you permission to stay overnight. I am aware of the fact you both haven’t seen each other in some time.’ Impa says nothing, and her gaze has gone distant. As it always does when she feels threatened or mistreated. There is nothing in those warm, kind eyes and Zelda could _scream_. She wants to say she’s sorry, but she _won’t_ buckle. ‘You can take one of the horses, I don’t mind which, and before you leave, I want you to visit the armoury and equip yourself.’

There isn’t any need for Zelda to say this to Impa. She has been doing this sort of thing since King Rhoam appointed her, which was nearly five years ago. But Zelda isn’t saying this for the sake of it. She is attempting to soften the blow, while making it clear who is in charge. That whatever happened last night has had no effect on her. That she cannot be underestimated.

Impa nods, and, for a fleeting second, there’s a sadness in her expression. It quickly dissolves though.

‘Before I go, ma’am, I wanted to wish you the best of luck with your special guest. It may surprise you that I have already met him.’

Zelda’s heart stops. She nearly throws up.

Impa _knows_ , and she even _knows_ the King himself? Identifying Zelda’s confusion and panic, Impa continues, ‘You needn’t worry too much about formalities with him. I found him to be very laidback, and _—_ ’ she smirks, and Zelda stiffens, ‘ _—_ entertaining, considering who and what he is.’

‘When did you both meet?’

‘After the war, during my absence.’ Impa shrugs. ‘Why do you think he took an interest in you?’

‘You _spoke_ to him about _me_?’

‘Of course. I had to. He was keen to enrol me into his royal guard, but I declined _—_ I serve you, after all.’

The very idea that somebody had tried to steal Impa away from Zelda adds fuel to the fire burning in her stomach. Now, Zelda feels like a fool. This whole time Impa has been aware of this King, and to make matters worse, it was _she_ who informed said King about her. Zelda could laugh. She always thought _she_ was being cruel, the liar, the one with deceptions and yet _—_

Zelda storms over, and considers pushing Impa back into the door.

At the last second, she _restrains_ herself.

‘Next time you had best _inform me_. I despise it _—_ _you—_ when I’m left in the dark.’

‘Honestly, Your Highness, I didn’t think it mattered until I was told about the King’s arrival today.’

_Zelda._

_I think Zelda is more appropriate now, don’t you agree?_

‘Well done, Impa. You must be proud of all you have accomplished.’ Zelda scowls. ‘You never know, by the time you return, I may be engaged.’

‘Oh.’

Zelda looks at her sharply.

Then, Impa’s smile drops. ‘ _Oh_. I didn’t realise that was your intention.’

More accurately, she didn’t want to _believe_ it was.

‘My departure makes much more sense now.’

There isn’t any point denying it anymore. Zelda nods, ‘Can you honestly blame me?’

Impa isn’t an idiot. She knows, one day, Zelda will marry. She just didn’t think it would be so soon. And so soon after _what they did_. But, maybe it doesn’t matter. Maybe what happened doesn’t matter, and it was never supposed to. Just a moment. A vulnerable few hours between them, that neither shall repeat or question. Perhaps Impa is an idiot, after all.

Wisely, the Sheikah takes a step back, and reaches for the door handle.

‘If that is all, then, Your Highness.’

‘It is. Only _—_ one more thing.’

As Zelda is about to resume, her voice betrays her, and having to watch Impa depart is more excruciating than she imagined. This punishment _—_ she can’t really ascertain _who_ exactly is being punished here. She softens her expression, and allows the grief to rupture her heart.

‘Be safe.’

 _And, please, come back alive_.

Impa rolls her eyes. ‘I’ll try my best,’ she mutters dryly.

It couldn’t be more apparent that Impa is hurt. Before she opens the door, Zelda stops her _again_ , and it takes everything in Impa _not_ to lose her patience. When Zelda grabs her wrist, Impa reluctantly turns to face her, ready for another blow. To be honest, she _did_ speak out of turn there, and Zelda is within her rights to rebuke her for it. And, for a second, Zelda wants to.

For their sakes, Zelda manages to control her anger, and the flash of red rage slowly evaporates from her eyes.

‘Please inform Link I send my regards. I will have the gifts ready prior to your departure. You remember everything I have said, I assume?’

Impa remembers, of course. This time around, she decides not to say a word, lest she make matters worse.

They couldn’t be worse, though. Zelda mirrors the same woman as last night. Terrified, lonely, and scared to lose the one person she cares most for in the world. She understands Zelda’s actions to a degree, and, really, Impa should not be shocked by them, or take them personally. It was never for her to take Zelda’s actions _personally_ and yet, they are.

She _is_ personal.

A silent plea is shared, something breaks, and Zelda could _scream_ when she finds herself kissing Impa. A chaotic frenzy of hands, as she grips hold of her tight, pulls, pushes, presses her body up to hers, her breath hot against her lips as she moves in to kiss again, and then again, and then again. The whole while, she shudders and trembles and moans at the sensation of Impa’s hands squeezing her hips, coming round her back, her mouth on hers, and Zelda sighs, _desperate—_

_Oh, dear Hylia, please don’t have me fall in love with her._

_Don’t punish me so._

It’s too late.

Zelda can pray and wish all she likes, but she knows, deeply nestled in her heart, that it is too late.

_Do not speak. Do not say it._

Over and over, she demands of herself _don’t say I think I love you,_ close to tears as she shreds herself from Impa, and finally allows the woman to leave. To leave her _again_ , once more by Zelda’s orders. Confused, baffled, _disappointed_ , Impa obeys her Princess’s commands, and the moment the door shuts behind her, Zelda throws her fists into the wall, scrunches her eyes shut, and sobs quietly.

For Impa, however, she isn’t able to lock herself in privacy and cry. Despite how much her heart is squeezed and the confused betrayal truly begins to sink in, Impa portrays nothing but her usual calm demeanour as she collects her belongings and prepares for the trip to Zora’s Domain. She doesn’t think about the kiss Zelda gave her before her departure, nor the sex; she doesn’t think about Zelda at all actually, determined to escape the Castle grounds before the sun has set.

A horse is given to her for the trip, and when the Princess’s secretary arrives with a couple of gifts for Lady Mipha and Sir Link, Impa can’t help but feel worse that Zelda isn’t here to see her off. She stores the gifts into her bag, before immediately riding the horse out of the Hyrule Castle gates and quickly out of sight. Once she is certain Zelda, or anybody, can witness her, Impa swears loudly, then again, cursing herself for her own stupidity and for even conceiving the idea that Zelda would ultimately settle for less.

There is a huge temptation to quickly visit Kakariko Village. Her home has been vacant for months, as she has spent most of her days and nights within the Castle walls. Yet, she decides otherwise. It would be best, especially now, to simply follow Zelda’s direct orders. Even if there is an ulterior motive behind them. How she wishes Zelda could be more subtle, and how much easier this could have all been if Zelda didn’t decide to kiss her _like that_ seconds before her departure.

Impa could not be more confused, and, usually in scenarios such as this, she finds it easier to simply escape it.

This is _Zelda_ , though. This isn’t any typical scenario. This is different.

Now with this suitor arriving, Impa is willing to believe that Zelda’s perception of her will change. However she might feel for her currently, as infuriating yet wonderful it is, that may not be forever. Potentially, Zelda is confused, and what she needs is stability. What she needs is love, _real love_ , where she is taken care of and protected, and not messed about. Where limitations are clear, and one is not inferior to the other. Zelda needs to be balanced, to be given her own freedom, and yet held when things get too much. She needs somebody who will stay alive for her.

Not some orphaned vagrant, who grew up on the streets and ate from scraps; a skinny, dishevelled child who found it easier to break the law than abide by it simply for her own survival. That kind of lifestyle, that kind of upbringing _—_ or lack, thereof _—_ is not good enough for Zelda. She deserves somebody intelligent, somebody whole, somebody who has not seen ugliness in the world.

Impa swears again, roughly wiping her eyes, irritated to be crying over somebody who would never have entertained the idea of her anyway. For the first time, she resents what she lacks, and she wonders if last night meant anything at all. She wonders if there is any point in confessing to Zelda, making her feelings clear, and hoping, stupidly, that Zelda might feel mutual.

Stupid.

Fucking stupid.

Two Zora guards meet Impa to the entrance of the Domain. Elegantly, she jumps off the horse, and introduces herself as Princess Zelda’s royal advisor. Unfortunately, these two Zora don’t recognise Impa from the war, but why would they? Zora aren’t particularly fond of Hylians, but they’re equally as disproving of the Sheikah _—_ _an inconsistent, fickle race_ was a description used. To this day, Impa isn’t entirely sure what was meant, but she gathers it wasn’t a compliment.

To Impa’s relief, she doesn’t have to be questioned for very long, because their Princess has come over to investigate.

‘Lady Impa! What an honour.’ At their Princess’s words, the two guards step aside. Impa is admittedly cheerier to be greeted with such warmth and enthusiasm, and they embrace. ‘I haven’t seen you in almost a year. Please, come this way. You must be exhausted from your travels.’

If there is anything Impa prefers about the Domain to the Castle it’s the equality. Lady Mipha is, from birth, Impa’s superior, but she certainly doesn’t behave that way. In fact, she treats Impa as a very important guest, and makes an effort to ensure Impa is given one of the nicest rooms in the Domain, and that all of her belongings be carried for her. Impa won’t complain. To be honest, it’s quite nice to have things done for her, as cheeky as she feels about it.

Mipha has returned to wearing her tiara again, she notices. A crucial item Mipha had removed during the war.

‘I’m afraid Link isn’t here at the moment. For the past days, we’ve had some problems near Ploymus Mountain. Since Ganon’s defeat, Lizalfos have been crowding our territory, in an attempt to win it over for themselves. This isn’t unusual, but it’s worse than it’s ever been.’

‘May I help?’

‘You are kind. For the moment, we’re trying not to act. Best we simply keep an eye on it, and only use violence when necessary.’

Impa forgets the Zora are a pacifist tribe.

However, the idea of going ballistic on a crowd of Lizalfos is tempting, especially right now.

She could do with releasing a bit of energy.

‘Ah, before I forget,’ Impa retrieves the two gifts from her bag, and hands them over to Mipha. ‘From Her Royal Highness, Princess Zelda. She sends her regards and congratulations.’

‘The Princess is too generous,’ Mipha replies softly, accepting the gifts. She places them on a nearby table. Another fact about the Zora: they care little for the material, but Mipha is of course grateful for the thought. ‘Has she been well?’

‘As well as one can be in her position,’ Impa replies honestly. She would rather not discuss Princess Zelda, but considering it is her job to _represent her_ , Impa finds herself in a tight spot. ‘Admittedly, I only returned to Hyrule Kingdom a couple of days ago. She’s taking her, uh, _role_ well, all things considered.’

‘I was sorry to hear about her late father.’ Impa stays quiet, but her eyes drop. ‘And you, Lady Impa? How have you been?’

‘Great,’ Impa replies shortly.

Mipha smiles, studying Impa briefly. Impa looks away, hoping Mipha doesn’t suddenly possess the ability to read minds. ‘Let’s head inside. I’ll have some food prepared for you, and a drink. I am sure when Link returns, he will be happy to see you. If you don’t mind waiting for him?’

‘No, of course not,’ Impa smiles back, meeting Mipha’s gaze. ‘Besides, it’s nice to see you all. It’s been a while.’

As Mipha directs Impa inside the palace, bringing Zelda’s gifts with her, Impa has a hunch this evening will cover not only the marriage, but the Hylian Princess also. And, so long as Mipha doesn’t read Impa _too_ closely, the Sheikah hopes to avoid any damaging conversations.

Such as the obvious. _Them_.

But, if anything, Impa is relieved to have some time away. If only for a short while.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan for the next couple of chapters to be from Impa's perspective. Besides, there's so much about her character I really want to sink my teeth into. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and please do share your thoughts. They mean the world to me, and inspire me so much to keep going with this story. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Sweet Guise**

* * *

> _Madam,  
>  _ _As requested from Your Royal Highness, I give notice of my safe journey to the Domain of the Zora. Should it please Your Royal Highness, I shall recommence communication throughout my travels.  
>  _ _I have the honour to remain, Madam, Your Royal Highness’s most humble and obedient servant.  
>  _ _Impa_

When Link eventually does return, he somehow appears younger. As always, he maintains an illegible air about him, but Link is lighter on his feet. No longer the world weighing him down. In fact, he even _smiles_ a little when he meets Impa, and shakes her hand _—_ just as old friends would. Impa notes how the Master Sword is no longer in his possession, however he maintains hold of the Hylian Shield rewarded to him by King Rhoam. That seems so long ago now. And so much has occurred since.

Also like before, Link and Mipha don’t make it apparent that they are together. Perhaps the two simply don’t feel the need to make their emotions explicit to others. They know how the other feels, and that’s enough security for them. It’s the sign of a happy relationship, Impa thinks, and she, herself, has never truly had that. Link and Mipha, at least on the outside, make this sort of thing look easy. Impa is more than aware, though, that it’s facile to judge a relationship when it’s not behind closed doors. She would hate to imagine what people believe of her and Zelda’s so-called professional comradery.

Link wears the blue Zora armour Mipha had offered him nearly a year ago, alongside white trousers and a white Hylian hood. He actually looks quite royal himself, and the appearance suits him. Impa is aware of the fact Link grew up in Zora’s Domain. It’s where he belongs, and this is the place he made friends and discovered himself. Perhaps it is of no surprise he fits in with the Zora so well. In a sense, he _is_ one of them.

The three of them dine together, but it’s nothing formal. Unlike the Castle, Zora royals don’t care for procedure, and their food is simple _—_ something Impa appreciates. Thankfully, due to the Zora having a soon-to-be Hylian Prince, they’ve acknowledged the fact that raw fish isn’t particularly appetising. Therefore, Link and Impa are provided with a warm meal, and, to Impa’s delight, white wine. She never really considered whether Zora drink or not, and she is pleased to discover that they do.

Link is chattier than he used to be. There’s a smile in his voice, and he seems assured of who and what he has become. Relieved to no longer serve Princess Zelda, overjoyed the Calamity has gone, so he can finally attend to what means most to him. Impa wonders, had things been different, would the two have ever been together?

She recalls the time when they _had_ failed, before Terrako erased history and they could begin again. While Zelda had expressed her grief and fury at failing to protect the Champions and Hyrule, Link was silent. He did not move, nor utter a single word. Impa only looked at him once, and it was clear to her that the young knight was utterly defeated. She never thought it possible of the man; never would have considered just _how close_ he was to the Zora Princess, and that losing her would ultimately break him.

Only when Terrako’s actions became clear, _that they could be saved_ , Impa immediately tried her best to detract Link from his misery _—_ _they had a chance!_ Immediately, Link followed her, their first plan of action to save Mipha from Vah Ruta’s cage. So excited and desperate to spare the Zora Princess, he, initially, forgot where his duty lies: with Princess Zelda. Yet he chased after the Divine Beast, and never once looked back. During that period, priorities shifted, and Link, slowly but surely, began to place his care for Zelda on Impa’s shoulders. He never once abandoned Zelda’s side, but it became very clear to Impa that it was not Zelda he was primarily doing this for.

And then Zelda’s powers were unleashed.

Impa tries to erase the thought. Although she was proud of her Princess for finally unlocking the status of a God, it was a hideous sight. A frightening one. Zelda’s body glowed, a luminous creature, able to levitate and control energy _—_ she could drain the life out of any living thing, mutilate it, and erase any species from existence. The entire Kingdom could be destroyed by her own two hands if she so wished. That kind of power, that kind of _malice_ , should not belong to any human being.

Then again, Zelda isn’t technically human.

She _is_ a God.

And, Impa can’t help but feel slightly terrified of her. She knows Zelda would never wish her harm, but Zelda _is_ terrifying. Too powerful for this mortal world. All the legends surrounding the Princess Zelda, they hardly ever touched on the great, disturbing power she possessed. It is an honour to serve her, of course, but Impa has seen the true ugliness of her devastating powers. What she can do. What she _might_ do.

Yet this deadly creature does not at all resemble the woman she kissed. The woman she made love to, and who loved her back. Who kissed so hopelessly, desperate to be held, wanting to be touched; somebody so lost and afraid of being alone. To be abandoned once again, because that is all she knows. Kissing Zelda, showing her how much she means to her, to be able to do _that_ , Impa would do it all over again. For the rest of her life. Whenever Zelda is in doubt, or needs to be loved _—_ even if it’s for a moment _—_ Impa knows, for a fact, she will always be there for her. Is that not her duty, after all?

It is foolish, is it not, to fall in love with a God?

Impa has read plenty of myths to know that it is not wise.

She suddenly becomes very aware of her own mortality, and her rather reckless situation, so downs half of her glass. Mipha notices, and ensures both Link and Impa have plenty to drink. The Zora Princess is most hospitable, Impa thinks, but is she actually planning to get them all drunk? Not that Impa minds. She just doesn’t think Zelda would be too impressed her royal advisor is abusing this time to get pissed.

Well, Zelda isn’t here. That’s the whole point of Impa being sent away.

‘If you don’t need to rush off tomorrow morning,’ Link says, ‘I hoped you could help me a little.’

‘Oh?’

‘Maybe Mipha told you, but we’re having a few issues with Lizalfos near the mountain. It’s been recommended we don’t use violence, however I thought our presence enough would be a threat. Potentially scare them off.’

‘However I can be of service,’ Impa says. ‘I’d be glad to.’

‘The Princess did not need to bring her royal advisor all the way over here,’ Mipha starts, and Impa can tell she’s getting onto a topic she has been holding back from for a few hours now. ‘A letter would suffice.’

Impa smiles awkwardly, ‘It sends a good message, I suppose.’

‘I already revere her. Your glass is empty.’

‘What _—_? Oh. Thanks.’ Impa slides her refilled glass over to herself. ‘So, you both excited?’ She nearly slaps herself. What a dumb question. ‘When I heard the news, I wasn’t all that surprised, but you both kept it quiet.’

Link glances between the two of them. ‘To be honest, I wasn’t really aware until later on.’ That doesn’t shock Impa in the slightest. Link can be oblivious. ‘It was after Ganon’s defeat. A good couple of months after, actually. I was struggling to protect the outskirts of Zora’s Domain, partially my fault. I underestimated the amount I would have to face. Fortunately, once Mipha heard the news, she came to aid me.’

‘Save you, more like,’ Mipha mutters.

‘Well,’ Link squints, ‘Not _exactly—_ ’

‘Exactly that,’ she interrupts, then turns her attention to Impa, who’s currently smirking behind her glass. ‘It must be nice to return to Princess Zelda’s side. I have a hunch she must have missed you. The two of you worked exceptionally well together.’

 _Funny_ , Impa thinks, _because that’s exactly how I described you both._

The smirk falls. Impa leans back in her seat, staring at her wine. ‘Actually, Her Royal Highness has _—_ _grown up_. Quite a lot in my absence. I fear she may not require my services for very much longer.’ She avoids their gazes, and decides to focus on the wall opposite instead. ‘It’s for the best, of course. After all, was it not up to us to ensure we had an independent sovereign? Someone capable of taking care of herself?’

Mipha tilts her head, silent, studying the Sheikah warrior. Link, on the other hand, isn’t as reflective. He leans over the table to help himself to another portion of warm salmon, and shoves in a mouthful. Whilst Link chomps away, Impa drops her line of vision to the glass again, wondering if, upon her return, Princess Zelda may dismiss her for good. Impa is already having doubts, and it’s only a matter of time until Zelda marries, be it this King or some other delectable bloke, and Impa will no longer be required.

Required. She raises a brow.

When was she ever _required_? A mere tool, for the sake of convenience?

‘You ensured that,’ Mipha says softly. Impa looks at her, curious. Link continues eating, but keenly pays attention to the conversation. ‘It was our responsibility to protect the Princess Zelda, yet we all knew that was only until she was able to access her powers. That she did. Because of this, we helped her defeat Calamity Ganon. However, like she needed your guidance and comfort then, she needs it now more than ever. To become Queen, especially at such a young age, would be mortifying for anybody. I cannot imagine what she must be going through, especially after the abrupt death of her father.’

Impa blinks. She hurriedly finishes her glass, amazed Mipha was able to produce such an eloquent explanation. That’s when Impa begins to wonder if Mipha _knows_ , or at least has a vague idea of what is going on. Although Impa is a strictly private person, she doesn’t really mind if Princess Mipha is aware. She knows Mipha won’t say a word to anybody, and it’s not as if she can judge Impa’s situation.

After all, had Link and she not been in the exact same scenario months ago?

‘I can only assume she is portraying herself as capable _—_ for the most part,’ Mipha continues, gaze beginning to drift as she gets lost in her thought process. Impa smiles weakly at her remark. That’s putting it lightly. Zelda is _desperate_ to prove her worth, to the point where she comes off as, well, _cruel_. ‘The poor girl probably has no choice but to lose herself in this façade. She has to be older than her years, and pretend as if her father’s death does not affect her. She has to want the Crown, despite all she has done and witnessed, and, yet, somehow not express that want either. It is a complicated matter, to be Queen, especially when one is truly alone.’

Both Link and Impa are frozen in their seats now. There’s a light _clang_ as Link’s fork hits the side of his plate. Mipha doesn’t seem to notice her companions’ anxiety, however, as she resumes her empathy for Princess Zelda. Impa thinks Zelda should have come here with her, at least to hear Lady Mipha’s wisdom and sympathies. Then again, Zelda _wants_ to be independent of her elders, and she has always looked to the likes of Mipha and Urbosa for guidance.

She cannot do that anymore.

However, maybe these words aren’t _meant_ for Zelda, but for Impa to hear. To be struck with reality once more. To appreciate the immense pressure weighing Zelda down, but this kind of pressure, this expectation to be better than brilliant, is not unusual for the Hylian Princess. Impa has witnessed the way King Rhoam treated her, and it was always brutal. Zelda, ever since she was a baby, was expected to be greater than perfect.

It squeezes her heart. Impa grimaces, her pain evident to both Link and Mipha, but, to Impa’s gratitude, neither mention it. She manages to recover, and is more than appreciative when her glass is topped up. Link joins, and Lady Mipha teases herself with a little alcohol as well. There is plenty more that _can_ be said, but Mipha decides to take mercy on Impa, and not add further salt to the wounds.

-

The Domain is glorious at night. The stars and moon are so thunderously bright, making the luminous stones of the Domain sparkle. It is truly magical here, and tranquil. Impa can appreciate why Link is so fond of the area. Slightly tipsy, she leans against one of the outlooks, where she is given a rewarding view of the Zora territory. The mountains are incredibly atmospheric at this time, fog and snow coating the tips, adding an air of mystery and romance to the scene.

All around her, she can hear water gushing into water; the sound of waterfalls smashing into rock, and the cheery noise of chatter; the sounds of life. All of this would not have been possible were it not for Hylia’s mercy, to finally have allowed Zelda to retrieve the powers granted to her from birth. She exhales out, white puffs passing her lips, trying her best not to think about the Hylian Princess locked in her Castle.

Fortunately Impa isn’t given the opportunity to do so, because the Zora Princess has appeared to keep her company.

‘I apologise if I spoke out of turn earlier.’

Impa widens her eyes, not shocked, but puzzled. For a Princess to apologise to _her_? She snorts, ‘Hardly. You only spoke the truth.’

‘Are you thinking about her?’

Now _that_ shocks her. Impa turns to Mipha, thinking of ways to deny such a claim, but Mipha laughs at her. It isn’t mocking. It’s almost sympathetic; _knowing_. The Princess rests a hand on the Sheikah’s shoulder.

‘Fear not. I am confident she will come around.’

Impa drops her gaze, and mutters, ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about.’

A smile. Mipha lowers her hand. ‘The Princess is confused. Confusion tends to make one frustrated, and even impatient with themselves. And, the best way to deal with such intense levels of stress, is to let it out on somebody else. Usually somebody they trust, and can confide with. It is none of my business what has occurred between you and the Princess, and I respect her actions may hurt you, but you _are_ the one she leans on for support and guidance. That will always stay true.’

‘How are you so sure?’

‘I think there was a reason Link was appointed as her knight. Link was strikingly similar to the Princess when he was her age; the two are more similar than they like to believe. Like the Princess, Link had little patience for his own failures. One way in which he handled that kind of grief was to channel it at someone he trusted.’

Frowning, Impa doesn’t say a word.

‘And it does hurt, doesn’t it? When they push you away. Sometimes, though, all they require is time.’

Impa remains quiet. She averts her gaze, not quite ready to admit how she truly feels on the matter. Zelda is certainly confused, but so is Impa. And it _does_ hurt. The pain, at times, cannot be described, it runs so deep. Perhaps what also doesn’t help is the fact they’re both as stubborn as each other.

Then, Mipha hands over an envelope.

‘You should know the Princess responded immediately to your letter.’

Impa accepts, but doesn’t open it.

‘Rest well, Lady Impa.’

As Mipha is about to walk away, Impa finds her voice, ‘Thanks, by the way. I have enjoyed it here, Your Highness.’

‘You are always welcome here.’

With Mipha’s departure, Impa reads the letter:

> _Dear Impa,  
>  _ _Please accept my gratitude for your notice and, yes, I wish for you to keep me updated on your journey. I trust you are well. I hear Zora’s Domain is the ideal refuge, a treat you well deserve.  
>  _ _Should you, by chance, pass any wild berries, be sure to return some home to me. You know how fond of them I am.  
>  _ _Warmest regards,  
>  _ _H.R.H. The Princess Zelda of Hyrule_

The moment she has finished reading, Impa exhales sharply, realising she hasn’t breathed at all in the past minute. At least the letter was civilised and, as Impa expected, not one hint of tension between them. Perhaps some time away from Impa is doing Princess Zelda good, and Impa is happy for her if that is the case.

She folds the letter, slipping it into her pocket, considering all that Mipha has said to her today. As she turns to head for quarters, Impa accidentally slips slightly on the wet ground. ‘ _Fuck_ ,’ she whispers harshly, irritated to hear somebody chuckling nearby.

‘Careful,’ Link warns, ‘You need to watch your step around here.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Impa rolls her eyes. She doubts the booze has helped either.

‘I suppose Mipha gave you the letter?’

‘Yeah.’

‘From Zelda?’

‘Yup.’

‘Oh.’

Impa scratches the back of her head, ‘Well, if that’s all, Link, I’ll be _—_ ’

‘If it weren’t for you, I don’t think it would have happened. Or, it would have, but only when it was much too late.’

‘What’re you going on about?’

Link smiles warmly. ‘What do you think?’

Impa pulls a face at him. It’s not like Link to be philosophical in the slightest. Plus, she doubts Princess Zelda would have discovered her inner powers later if it weren’t for Impa. Quite honestly, Impa is beginning to wonder if she truly made a difference. Whether Zelda would have been just fine without her.

‘Actually, I’m willing to believe it was always about you.’

‘Are you now?’ Impa smiles, slightly sarcastic. ‘Have you forgotten who it was she tried to save before she accessed her abilities?’

Link shakes his head. ‘Have you forgotten who helped her get that far in the first place? You can read into it however you like, Impa, but you know the truth as well as I.’

‘I wouldn’t be so sure about that.’

The knight steps past her, ‘Whatever you say.’ He waves, ‘Good night.’

It’s reassuring to know that Link hasn’t changed _that much_ , after all. She watches him walk away, and inside the palace. Impa doesn’t go to bed immediately, now burdened with both Mipha and Link’s infuriating wisdom. Of all things to happen, she wasn’t expecting the two of them to offer advice.

Of course Link is talking nonsense. Surely he is only saying all of this just to preserve her feelings. The only person in the world who knows the truth is Zelda herself, and maybe the way she unleashed her powers isn’t as black and white as Impa assumed. Maybe her trying to save Link had nothing to do with _love_ , in the strictest sense, but the selfless desire to protect those she cares for.

It could have been anybody in that situation.

She decides not to fall down a rabbit hole with this. At the very least, it will simply keep her up all night, and Impa is exhausted with the back and forth.

However, before she retires for the night, she has a response sent back to Zelda. Really, she needn’t bother, but she wants to; a part of her wants Zelda to know she is being thought of, and if Impa can provide her with that security, then she will give it.

Naturally Impa doesn’t sleep well that evening anyway, her mind clouded with thoughts of Zelda, and everything which happened during the war and afterwards.

Yet, she is willing to sacrifice the luxury of sleep for thoughts as beautiful as the Princess she resolutely serves.

> _Madam,  
>  _ _Or, Princess Zelda, if I may.  
>  _ _Your Royal Highness is right: the Domain is a unique refuge of its own. Although our friends here are so hospitable, I find it a challenge to spend any time alone.  
>  _ _I am confident of the fact Lady Mipha and Sir Link think of Your Royal Highness often, and await Your Royal Highness’s arrival, whenever that may be, with great anticipation._  
>  _ You _ _are missed. Dearly.  
>  _ _I have the honour to remain, Madam, Your Royal Highness’s most humble and obedient servant.  
>  _ _Impa_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It is honestly so refreshing to write Link and Mipha in a happy scenario. I always give them a shit time.
> 
> Now, it's Zelda and Impa's turn, apparently. 
> 
> I just want to say how flattered and honoured I am to receive the most wonderful feedback on the prior chapter. I can't thank you all enough for your support on this story. It is such a shame this ship isn't popular, but I hope I give them justice with this story. Updates, for the moment, shall remain frequent. Thanks again!
> 
> P.S. It was fun researching how someone close to a Royal Princess addresses/writes to them in a letter. Impa is so well behaved. Sometimes.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: Sisters**

* * *

At dawn, the temperature is below freezing. Impa manages to get herself warm by performing a few quick exercises before beginning the day, which also helps marginally with the inevitable hangover she suffers from. Hopefully Link will be feeling rough too so she doesn’t have to feel too guilty about the amount she drank last night. _Blame it on Mipha_ , she thinks to herself, leaving her private quarters and meeting a few Zora guards and Link outside.

She grins. Link looks _awful_ , but at least he has managed to wake up. He drags a hand through his dishevelled hair, clearly having just rolled out of bed, and ignores Impa’s amused expression as they all head towards Ploymus Mountain. There is something charming about the fact two of Hyrule’s greatest warriors are feeling weak and exhausted because of too much alcohol. In fact, the only thing keeping Impa going is the fact she doesn’t want to miss out on witnessing Link suffer.

Fortunately, they both have plenty of work to get done to distract themselves from their hangover. Link gives the all-clear to ensure the Lizalfos are, at the very least, scared off. Impa isn’t sure whether Link expects her to literally bolt right into the Lizalfos nest and wreak havoc, or to do this in a civilised fashion. Not that the Lizalfos would understand either gestures; they’re not the brightest of species, which only makes their threatening presence all the more remarkable.

Of course the Lizalfos refuse to move without a fight. _Obviously_.

How Link thought he would get away with simply _shooing_ them without the use of weapons is beyond Impa, but, honestly, she’s more than happy to let off some steam. They are rather ridiculous creatures, but their tongues, claws and teeth are absolutely brutal. Impa effortlessly dodges their attacks, quick with her blade as she, alongside Link, forces the Lizalfos to withdraw further and further back.

Before sunrise they manage to scatter the rest, until the base of the mountain is completely abandoned. Link thanks the Zora guards for their assistance, and says the next time this happens, he will try not to resort to violent means. Which is close to impossible, but Impa supposes it’s the thought that counts. The guards salute their soon-to-be Prince and return to the Domain.

‘I imagine you’ll be leaving,’ Link says.

Impa nods, ‘My next destination is Purah. The Princess wishes me to collect Terrako from her, and bring him to the Castle _—_ show him to this King she’s trying to woo.’ Her heart stops. _That’s today!_ Princess Zelda will be welcoming this man _today_ , and God knows what will happen.

By tonight, she might like the guy, and Impa immediately feels sick. She’s _panicking_ , and _—_ what’s worse, Impa realises that she is _jealous_. Because if all goes well, it won’t be long until this King will have her hand in marriage and they _—_ _he_ will be with Zelda, just as Impa was, except it won’t _be her, it will be_ ** _him_**.

The very thought makes her _angry_ , and inconsolable with envy.

It takes her a moment to realise Link has said something. Feeling hollow inside, she looks at him, blank in the face. ‘What?’

‘Who’s this King? What’s he like?’ From what Impa recalls when she met him personally, a gentleman. Which is _awful_. Link studies her. ‘You don’t seem too happy with the situation.’ Impa frowns at him. ‘I would hate to assume what you’re thinking, but usually royal advisors are pleased when the Prince or Princess they serve is marrying someone of significant status. I guess you can’t do much better than a King.’

‘I am happy,’ she could not sound _less_ happy. ‘ _Thrilled_.’

Link snorts, ‘Did you and Princess Zelda have a falling out?’

Now that someone has said it, it nearly makes Impa laugh. A falling out. That’s putting it lightly. Link waits patiently for an answer, although he is puzzled as to what Impa finds so amusing. Maybe it’s the hangover, but he’s beginning to wonder if Impa isn’t telling him something. Something important.

Whenever they have discussed Princess Zelda, Impa hasn’t been particularly enthusiastic about the subject. As somebody who is always vocal about the Princess, and makes it clear to everybody where her duty lies, it is odd _—_ _very odd—_ for Impa to avoid talking about Zelda in any way that she can.

Perhaps there is more to this than Impa is letting on.

‘Did she send you away because of this King?’

Impa shrugs.

‘What have you _done_?’

The very question itself stirs a rage in her. ‘What have _I_ done?’ She whirls around at him, and Link is honestly slightly terrified. Before he tries to ease the atmosphere, Impa snaps, ‘ _I_ have done _nothing_. It was her who _—_ ’ she stops abruptly.

Link tilts his head. ‘It was her who what?’

‘Nothing,’ Impa sighs, trying her best to calm down. ‘I should probably be on my way.’

As the two of them head in the direction of Zora’s Domain, Impa focusses on the route she should take to Purah’s lab. Hateno Village is a good few miles south, but with her horse, the journey should only last a couple of hours. Link helps Impa place the saddle, and does nothing to halt her departure as she climbs onto the horse’s back.

Before Impa can leave, however, he says, ‘You should probably tell her. Honesty is a great virtue,’ he shrugs, ‘I’m sure Princess Zelda would appreciate it.’

The last thing Impa wants to do is _be honest_ with Zelda. The last time she did that they ended up in bed together, and, quite frankly, she doesn’t trust herself around Zelda at the moment. Or, more accurately, she doesn’t trust Zelda around _her_. She looks down at him, brow raised, and it’s clear to her that Link, at least, has a vague idea of what is happening between Impa and the Princess.

Interrupting their discussion (to Impa’s relief), a Zora has come running over with a letter in hand. Slightly out of breath, he passes it to Impa.

‘From Her Royal Highness, the Hylian Princess. She wanted this delivered to you prior to your departure.’

‘If you both did leave each other on bad terms, I’m willing to believe Princess Zelda is eager to reconcile,’ Link follows the Zora back into the Domain, ‘Farewell.’

> _My dear Impa,  
>  _ _You may refer to me as Princess Zelda in your letters, of course.  
>  _ _Please be safe as you make your way to Hateno Village. King Pecasio shall be arriving later today, but I shan’t bore you with the details. I wish you were here. You were always very good at calming my nerves, as well as making sure our guests felt welcome. I fear I am not a natural charmer like you are. Of course, the errands I have sent you on are of greater priority than my own downfalls.  
>  _ _The day would go by easier if I could focus on the matter at hand properly, yet I find myself thinking of you all the time.  
>  _ _Can you imagine how distracting that is?_  
>  _I miss you.  
>  _ _Most faithfully yours,  
>  _ _H.R.H. The Princess Zelda_

The urge to ride back to Hyrule Castle immediately is overwhelming. Impa catches herself smiling as she pockets the letter, and, for a few minutes, she genuinely considers her options. Should she return to the Castle? Impa would be there before midday. She could tell Zelda all that she has been feeling, the fact she can’t stop thinking about her either; that all she wants is Zelda.

Her heart skips a beat, and her stomach is doing somersaults. Impa feels clammy, her mind running a mile a minute. Had Zelda meant every word? Why has she, all of a sudden, expressed such affection to Impa in her letters? Impa rereads it again, holding her breath as she takes in every word.

_I miss you._

_I find myself thinking of you all the time._

_I wish you were here._

_Most faithfully yours—_

_I find myself thinking of you_

_all the time._

There is an explosive romance to the idea of Impa hurrying to the Castle to confess her love, and she’s shocked the emotions she holds for Zelda have become so clear. Has she always been in love with Princess Zelda? Perhaps there is a more obvious reason behind her loyalty, her desperate attempts to keep Zelda safe; to have helped her not only physically, but mentally during the war.

Had she loved her then?

Had Zelda began to feel anything towards Impa then?

Realising she has been sitting here for a good fifteen minutes, Impa decides it best she depart before any of the Zora start getting suspicious. The horse gallops in the direction of Hateno Village, the wind refreshing on her face as she goes over Zelda’s letter over and over in her mind. She encourages the horse to go faster, a mere blur to anybody passing, and it is hard, _very hard_ , not to completely fill every thought with Zelda.

_I want this._

Impa can remember how Zelda kissed her, how she breathed against her, the sounds she made, how she clung to the bedsheets, nearly ripping them from the mattress. Her naked body, _glowing_ , her breasts, soft, like velvet, in Impa’s hands. The gasps she made when Impa kissed her neck, how crazy she drove her, as she begged for more.

The way she cried out her name in ecstasy.

 _I want_ ** _you_**.

Then, abruptly, Impa stops the horse. It comes to a skidding halt, and, at once, Impa jumps off, hurries towards the trees and throws up. She groans, rubbing her eye with the heel of her palm. Her stomach hasn’t settled at all, and Impa honestly feels like death warmed up. All of this thinking about Zelda, alongside the poison slowly draining her soul, is enough to make Impa feel very unwell.

She sits, back pressed to the bark, and tries to relax. Impa closes her eyes, doing her best to erase any thoughts of Zelda, and get back to the task at hand. Plus, Purah wouldn’t give Impa a break if she witnessed her baby sister looking this dreadful. It’s beginning to look as if Impa doesn’t have a choice, though. Purah will see what a wreck she is, and Impa simply won’t hear the end of it.

For the remainder of the journey, Impa decides to ride slower, for the sake of her stomach.

Hateno Village is so lovely and quaint when Impa arrives, but she doesn’t hang around to window shop. The horse gallops up the long, seemingly never endless hill where Purah’s lab is located. She passes the farm, a statue of some sort, and, finally, the lab. A blue flame dances in the breeze outside. Impa abandons the horse, and she is about to open the front door when she hears the sound of something abnormally large.

Then the all-too familiar sound of _beeping_.

Impa widens her eyes in horror, and turns to find a Guardian proceeding towards her, a red light directly aimed at her head. _This is_ ** _so_** _not what I need right now_. The huge machine is about ready to fire, but Impa moves just in time, before jumping up high and slashing the Guardian across its eye. The Guardian is stunned for half a second, and Impa takes advantage of this opportunity to call on her traditional Sheikah offensive: it’s a speedy, yet elegant performance as Impa telepathically places a Symbol onto the Guardian, before two clones of herself burst from the air.

This should be significantly easier now. Mirroring their original, all three Impas manage to directly harm the Guardian, and they’re just too quick for the Guardian to hit. Her blade eventually breaks through its thick armour, and the Guardian seems to wail as it hurls its long legs at her. Impa accidentally catches one, and it cuts through her arm, oozing blood. She swears under her breath, annoyed to have been wounded, but after a few flurries of all three blades, the Guardian topples, leaving itself open for a final attack.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Impa strikes _—_

‘What do you think you are **_doing_**?!’

The Sheikah nearly loses her balance, forcing herself to stop. Infuriated, she whips her head around to Purah, who has only _now_ decided to see what all the commotion was outside. Impa, rather dumbly, points at the Guardian.

‘It’s trying to kill me!’

Purah rolls her eyes, ‘No, it’s not. Look.’

And to Impa’s bemusement, the Guardian remains dormant, seemingly harmless.

‘Unbelievable.’

Purah walks past her younger sister. ‘What have you _done_? The poor thing!’ She rests a hand on the giant machine of death, and glares at Impa. ‘What on earth inspired you to damage my beautiful baby? I only just restored it this morning, and I find you trying to destroy it again. What’s _wrong_ with you?’

‘I don’t know how many times I have to tell you, that _thing_ was trying to kill me. It had its red dot target-y thing pointed at me and everything! With the _beeps_!’

Purah pulls a face at her. ‘Are you okay?’ Impa decides to just give up. She’s not sure if Purah is simply yanking her chain, or if she’s actually sincere. Obviously Purah is very protective of her experiments, but to actually use her sister as a guinea pig to make sure the experiment _works_ is just _—_ well, not all that surprising to be honest. ‘You look hideous.’ Purah smirks. ‘Which is funny to me.’

Folding her arms, Impa refuses to look at Purah until she has stored that beast away. Once the Guardian is out of sight, Purah invites Impa into her lab. Finally. Impa has actually forgotten the real reason why she bothered to come all of this way, and be accused of vandalism, until she accidentally walks into a tiny ball of metal.

Terrako _chirps_ up at her.

‘Oh, God, they’re everywhere,’ Impa moans, falling into a nearby chair.

‘You should see the marvellous ideas Terrako and I keep coming up with,’ Purah says, and, to Impa’s gratitude, she starts to brew some tea. ‘I never really enjoyed working with anybody but I suppose this little thing is an exception.’

Impa drags a hand down her face. ‘It’s a robot.’

‘It can hear you.’

‘Good.’ Impa turns to Terrako. ‘You’re a robot. Just an empty tin can.’

Placing two mugs and a pot of tea onto the table, Purah sits opposite Impa, and encourages Terrako to hop up. The tiny bot is more than happy to join them. As he lands onto the table, he immediately focusses his attention on their miserable guest. Impa gives him a look that is the least bit warm.

Unfortunately Terrako doesn’t seem to care, as he joyfully scurries over, and _chirps_ again.

‘Aw. He’s saying hello.’

Impa doesn’t respond.

‘Well, you gotta say hello _back_.’

‘I’m not _—_ ’ Impa groans. ‘Believe it or not, I’m here to collect him.’

Purah nods, ‘Her Royal Highness informed me of your arrival. She seemed quite cheerful in her letter. Which reminds me, it’d be nice every now and again to receive a letter from my own sister. No big deal.’

‘In case you haven’t noticed, Purah, I’m here right now. Enjoy. Also, how does one sound cheerful in a letter?’

Purah taps her nose. ‘I know things.’ She passes Impa her cup of tea. ‘Drink that. Should help you out of your grump.’

So she doesn’t go completely insane, Impa ignores that remark. The tea is wonderful and sweet; warm as it manages to settle Impa’s upset tummy, and at least now she is rid of the bitter taste of her own vomit. She casts her gaze towards Terrako, who, if he had a mouth, would most likely be smiling right now.

‘Ah,’ Purah points to Impa’s injured arm. ‘I see it nicked you.’

‘You believe me now?’

‘I’m sure you antagonised the poor thing. After all, it’s not the first time someone has swung their fist at you.’

‘Or tried to kill me.’

‘Would you let it go? Anyway,’ Purah stands, ‘I’ll be a _kind_ sister, and treat your wound.’

‘There’s really no need.’

Naturally Purah ignores her. She soon returns to the table with a box of medical equipment. Impa rolls up her sleeve, giving Purah more room to work. Despite their tense back and forth, Purah is gentle as she dabs Impa’s wound with an antiseptic wipe, before covering it over in a bandage.

Meanwhile Impa studies the collection of materials nearby. There’s what looks like a helmet, some rather gorgeous looking swords, and a shield which she imagines reflects attacks. ‘How much for one of those blades?’

‘Hm, I think 10,000 rupees is a reasonable offer.’

‘You’re not even going to give me a discount?’

‘Goodness gracious me, no.’

‘I’m your sister.’

Purah looks at her, and thinks hard for a moment. ‘Yes, that is a fair point.’ She clicks her fingers, ‘20,000 rupees then!’

‘Forget it.’

‘Because I just _love_ to hear the latest goss from the Castle, why does Her Royal Highness require Terrako? Now, of all times.’

While Purah places the box of medical equipment away, Impa wonders whether she should be blunt or make up some story. However, lying would be fruitless. Purah would see right through her, and it’s not as if Zelda’s reasons are completely scandalous. Maybe Impa just doesn’t want to talk about it.

She sips her tea. ‘A royal guest shall be arriving later today, and the Princess wants him to see Terrako _—_ something from the war, you know.’

‘Oh. And who is this royal guest?’

‘I would rather not discuss that.’

‘Why not?’ Purah whines, ‘Oh, don’t tell me it’s to do with this meeting being confidential or whatever. _As if_. Besides, who am I gonna tell? It’s not as if I spend my days chatting shit with the locals.’

‘Some King.’

‘ _King_?’ Purah narrows her brows, ‘Is he single?’

‘Regrettably.’

‘Oh ho ho, I see what Her Royal Highness is up to!’ Purah laughs, ‘Good on her, I say. She is a pretty young woman who deserves a handsome King to love her.’ She sighs, ‘I, personally, wouldn’t mind a handsome King myself.’

‘Alas, you are not royalty. Far from it.’

‘Neither are you. The fact you have close connections with the royal family is incredible, considering how we once lived.’

‘Don’t remind me,’ Impa mutters.

‘What are your thoughts on the match?’

‘I _—_ ’ Impa exhales, wishing people would stop asking for her opinion.

Yet before she can continue, Purah interrupts, ‘You don’t seem as over the moon as you _should_. Isn’t it _your_ responsibility to ensure the Princess’s happiness? Well, guess what _—_ ’ she punches her playfully, ‘ _—_ she _can_ be happy now, wrapped up in her King’s mighty, strong arms.’

To Purah’s surprise, Impa jumps from her seat, looking very disturbed.

‘I need some fresh air.’

‘Eh? What’s got into you?’

Impa strides over to the door, ‘If you keep bellyaching about this King’s arms, I might actually hurt you a little bit.’ Purah follows Impa outside, and the air is more than refreshing as Impa tries to collect herself. Pouting, Purah watches her sister, arms folded. Impa decides it best not to look Purah in the eye.

Then, after three seconds, Purah throws Impa a deadpan look.

‘Oh, for shit’s sake.’

Impa suddenly feels very small.

‘You didn’t.’

‘I didn’t what?’

‘You _did_ ,’ Purah gasps, covering her mouth. ‘You _did_!’

It is rare moments such as these when Impa has to appreciate she is, indeed, the junior of the two. Her older sister carries a little more worldly experience than Impa does, and she is also very good at reading people. _Especially_ when it comes down to her sister. Purah shakes her head, a smile slowly making its way over her lips.

Purah bursts out laughing.

‘This is _—_ this is so juicy, I’m dizzy!’

‘What?’ Impa huffs. ‘What? What is it?’

‘I’m sorry, Imps, but you are truly remarkable. When did you start flirting with royalty, eh? How long has _this_ been going on for?’

‘You _—_ I’m not _—_ ’

‘But, please, be merciful. You didn’t actually _sleep_ with Her Royal Highness, did you?’

Impa decides it best not to say anything.

Purah knows.

And Impa’s silence is confirmation enough.

‘Holy shit.’

‘I _—_ ’

‘When?’

‘A few days ago.’

‘A _few—_ ’ Purah widens her eyes. ‘Impa, I didn’t know you had it in you!’

‘It was only the once. Don’t get too excited. And can we _please_ drop this now?’

‘Oh, darling, that is just not happening.’ Purah grabs Impa’s hand and leads her back inside the lab. ‘You have to tell me _everything_ , and don’t you dare leave out any details.’ Impa sighs, exasperated, when they return to their seats. Terrako, whether or not he understands what’s going on, seems to have taken sympathy for the younger Sheikah, as he nudges its huge head against her shoulder.

Terrako _chirps_ enthusiastically, and Impa glances at Purah for translation.

‘He said he wants to know everything too.’

‘No, he didn’t,’ Impa props herself on one elbow. ‘And you are wrong to believe I’m letting you in on what occurred between Her Highness and I.’

‘Tell me this: what’s the situation between you both now? Have you decided to stay as friends?’

Impa drops her gaze. ‘Actually, we haven’t decided on anything. The Princess had me sent away the morning afterwards.’

‘Ouch.’

‘Thankfully, her letters _—_ ’

‘Letters? You’ve been writing to each other?’

‘On her orders,’ Impa says quickly.

‘Is that what’s poking out of your jacket there? A letter from the Princess, herself?’

At once, Impa snatches the letter out of sight. ‘Yes. From this morning.’

‘Cute. May I read?’

‘No!’

‘This is honestly the most interesting you have ever been. Don’t waste this opportunity, Imps.’

‘I _—_ ’ Impa gapes, ‘You know, I’m kind of offended you said that.’

‘You’ll get over it. Now, hand it over.’

‘Bugger off.’

As persistent as her sister, Purah refuses to surrender so easily. Purah leaps over the table, grabbing Impa’s wrists and the two are lost in some sort of wrestling match as Purah, shorter but stronger than Impa, miraculously manages to whip the letter out of Impa’s possession.

Terrako _chirps_ , probably celebrating Purah’s win.

Impa yells something quite rude at her, but Purah doesn’t open it just yet.

As Impa scrambles back to her feet, she watches the letter intently, ready for the sheer humiliation once Purah lays her eyes on it.

‘If it’s just a letter, Impa, then why are you so angry?’

‘I’m not angry. I simply respect what is _mine_.’

‘Unless this isn’t any normal letter,’ Purah muses, ‘Unless it’s a _love_ letter.’

‘You’ve had your fun, Purah. Give it back.’

‘Clearly this letter is of great value to you, which means Her Highness is as well, _which means_ you must have a soft spot for your one-time lover.’

Impa glares, unmoving, and refusing to admit to anything.

‘Please don’t tell me my proud sister has, God forbid, fallen hopelessly in love with the Princess Zelda?’ Purah returns the letter to Impa, who wastes no time to stuff it back into her pocket. Impa is confused, though. Purah didn’t read it, and she probably had no intention to ever read the letter. ‘I would hate to invade my sister’s private belongings, especially when such belongings came from someone so special to her heart.’

‘You’re not funny.’

‘I’m not trying to be funny.’ Purah notices that Impa hasn’t answered her question, but Impa doesn’t need to. ‘I must say, I’m not surprised. You both went through a lot together. Wasn’t it you two, alongside Lady Mipha and Link, who destroyed the Calamity Ganon once and for all? I suppose that does something to a person. My, my. You would follow that little Princess anywhere, wouldn’t you?’

She would.

To Hell and back. Just as she had done during the war.

Impa had followed Zelda all the way to Calamity Ganon, and fought alongside her; she was there when Princess Zelda made the final blow, and it was a sight to behold. Impa had never felt prouder of Zelda, never felt so much admiration and affection for a woman who has achieved so much greatness in such little time.

She would have never imagined those intense feelings would develop into something far stronger, far deeper, far more intoxicating.

When they kissed, it was as if the dam had broken.

Everything _poured_.

Purah smiles, coming over and embracing her rather stiff sister. Impa frowns, wondering what game she is playing at, but only when Purah moves away, does she realise Purah is actually being sincere.

And _—_ _sympathetic_.

‘We have all night to catch up, and I know the perfect way to get the truth out of you.’

Purah walks over to a cupboard, retrieving a bottle of port.

‘I know we should have this after we’ve eaten, but _—_ ’ she grabs a couple of glasses, ‘ _—_ Desperate times call for desperate measures.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hair of the dog, eh?
> 
> This chapter was honestly so much fun to write. Purah is _crazy_ , and I really appreciate how Nintendo didn't make the two sisters alike. Really adds to the bantz.
> 
> When I played AoC and defeated Ganon, my team was, indeed, Zelda, Impa, Link and Mipha, and I've kind of just stuck with that headcanon. 
> 
> Your feedback for the prior chapter was just out of this world. I can't thank you all enough. It made my bloody day! 
> 
> I suspect Impa will be returning to Zelda in the following chapter. Maybe. God only knows where they go from here...


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You are ALL incredible.
> 
> I have never received such amazing feedback. I am absolutely honoured and flattered to read such enthusiastic reviews. It has my heart soaring, and I am so happy to provide you with some Impa/Zelda!  
> This story is such a big deal for me right now, and I'm overjoyed to share it with you all.  
> Please know I read and cherish every review sent to me. You have no idea how much it brings a smile to my face, and has me eager to write more!
> 
> Thank you so so SO much for your reviews. 
> 
> Also, if any of yous have a Tumblr, please do follow me so I can follow you back. My url is aviatordame.

**Chapter 7: Bring Her Home**

* * *

Despite her rather whacky nature, Purah is surprisingly insightful. Although Impa is not willing to share the finer details of what occurred the evening before she left Hyrule Castle, Purah demonstrates how she doesn’t really require very much information in order to help support her sister. Obviously Purah’s love lies with her own technological experiments, but she hasn’t been living under a rock.

The two haven’t necessarily discussed each other’s love life. Actually, even before Impa was appointed as royal advisor for the late King Rhoam, the Sheikah siblings followed different paths. Purah discovered her passion for the randomness and dangers of science and magic, whereas Impa chose a more grounded career. While Purah busied herself with research, Impa trained herself to become a highly skilled warrior, capable of destroying fleets of monsters with ease. A one-woman army.

When Purah realised the intense level of work Impa had put into transforming her lifestyle, she was initially shocked, and even a little saddened. They had been so close during their childhood, but neither enjoy venturing back to then. Those days weren’t exactly happy. As the older of the two, by five years, it was Purah’s responsibility to ensure their safety and survival. Yet Impa was older than her years at a very young age.

Perhaps losing one’s parents and being thrown out into the cold streets does that to a child. It hardens them, they miss out on a true childhood, and already face the world with bloodied hands and spears. The amount of crimes they committed together, simply for the sake of staying alive, Purah has lost count.

It was _easier_ for Purah to separate herself from that world. Her career offers that danger still, but at least it was hers, and she’s just good at it. She has always been a bit “loopy”, so to speak, however Impa never saw it as Purah being crazy or anything of the sort. She’s just happier, more comfortable in life, and able to express herself freely. Any opportunity, any chance, to ignore and abandon the lives they once led. The thefts, illegal businesses, and, at times, killings. A dark past which both deny, but Purah more so. Only recently has Impa started to delve into her own history.

Princess Zelda has ripped off the veil which was once drawn over Impa’s childhood. They are two very different people, with completely different histories. Impa came from nothing, whereas Zelda _is_ , indeed, royalty. No matter who steps into Hyrule Castle and expresses an interest in Zelda, Impa simply can’t compete. There will always be somebody wealthier, more intelligent, of higher status; just somebody _better_ , a more superior being, who has been raised properly.

The fact Impa managed to somehow develop close connections with the royals is remarkable, yet it only happened by chance. One of King Rhoam’s guards was struggling with a herd of Bokoblins attempting to break into Hyrule Castle Town. Impa merely offered a hand, and Rhoam gave her a job. She began as an army recruit, and it was a strange sight not only to see a woman present, but a Sheikah too. The Sheikah prefer their own tribe, as do most, but to have one serving in the Hylian military was a rare occurrence. Naturally, Impa excelled faster than even her seniors, and, like Link at the time for Princess Zelda, she was quickly made the King’s right hand woman.

Over time, that position was given a name. Although she is credited as “royal advisor” to the King and/or Queen, Impa’s duties lie beyond giving _advice_. She is meant to be there constantly, and to do whatever is asked of her. She no longer has a personal life. Her life becomes the royal family. She is always present, and knows what the King requires before he even knows it himself. More than that, she is his sole protector; his representative, a shadow in a sense.

Until it was nearing Princess Zelda’s seventeenth birthday. King Rhoam placed the Sheikah Slate in Impa’s possession, simply to keep safe and hidden. As well as that, he ordered Impa’s priorities be switched from himself, to his young daughter. It is no longer him she must protect, but his own flesh and blood _—_ the little Princess who will, one day, save the whole of Hyrule.

Both Impa and Zelda had met before. As someone who is frequently by the King’s side, it is inevitable Her Royal Highness would be familiar with her. Impa had always been quiet whenever King Rhoam disciplined his daughter, even when he made it clear how disappointing she was. To be honest, Impa wasn’t sure if this is just what fathers are like, but she always felt sympathetic for the young Princess as she endured her father’s harsh words. More than sympathetic.

At times, it was tricky whether it was within reason to _advise_ King Rhoam on how he raised his own daughter. When Impa was told to protect Princess Zelda, she promised herself she would not mirror Zelda’s father. She would try a different tactic: kindness. She would support the poor girl as much as she possibly could, and immediately made it so that Zelda’s life came before hers. Of course, that job was made easier thanks to Link’s efforts, but his duty was only temporary.

Both Link and Zelda grew close, but they didn’t know each other. Link had almost fluttered in and out of her life, just as all the other Champions had, excluding Lady Urbosa. However it isn’t very surprising that Zelda mourned Link’s absence for a short while when he was dismissed from his duties. She no longer required the silent knight’s protection, and so it only made sense she allowed him to walk away, and pursue his own life. Impa, on the other hand, while she did absent herself for a couple of months _—_ she won’t leave Zelda’s side, mostly because she has nowhere else to go.

After dedicating herself to the royals for most of her life, what else is there?

If Zelda were to dismiss her, it would honestly shatter Impa apart. To have everything she has worked so hard for, _her entire life_ , to be dismantled. And this woman, this incredible God, has the power to simply wave her hand, and have Impa gone. Of course, Impa’s skills can be used for other purposes, but she can’t imagine how or where. Unlike Purah, Impa does not have a concrete job, or place in this world.

There’s a theory from some privileged snob who said people only join the military service if they’re lost in life. If they have nothing else going for them. Impa totally denies this, but, sometimes, wonders if it might be true for her. She doesn’t have family, doesn’t have friends, doesn’t have lovers or even a name.

Why would a Princess fall in love with a nameless outsider?

‘You’ll be surprised how easy it is to get over somebody,’ Purah says, pouring them another glass of port. ‘I don’t think you have that problem, though.’ She snorts, ‘D’you remember that sorry arse who kept harassing you to take him back? He actually approached _me_ about it, and I just wasn’t having that.’

‘How traumatising for you,’ Impa rolls her eyes.

‘My point is, between us, you’re the heartthrob. You fuck ‘em, and then leave.’

‘That is so not true.’

‘And I’m the one who has to pick up the pieces _—_ ’

‘Again, not true _—_ ’

‘So why are you so bruised about it this time? Don’t get me wrong, she’s pretty, and who doesn’t want to get under the sheets with a royal _—_ ’ Impa scrunches up her nose, ‘ _—_ but, seriously, _what_ is different about this one? Why can’t you just cut all ties, like you have every other time? Not that I want Her Highness to be on _my_ doorstep, crying, but...’

Impa laughs. As if Zelda would do such a thing.

That isn’t what Purah is stressing at, though. She has a point. Impa has been with others before Zelda, men and women, and she has never really grown an attachment with any of them. When it comes to Zelda, though _—_ what Impa feels for her, it’s intense. Heavy. It completely dominates her heart and mind, to the point where she can’t sleep, eat or think about anything else.

What _is_ different about Zelda?

‘You’re in a wee bit of a pickle,’ Purah continues. ‘Because, if you confess your undying love for her _—_ ’ Impa ignores that, ‘ _—_ she could potentially dismiss you for good. Demand your resignation, that kinda thing. _Or_ , and this is pushing it, she runs into your arms and you both live happily ever after.’

‘Hm.’

‘We’re not living a fairy tale, though, little sister. You need to be careful. I can’t believe I’m actually saying this, but I’d hate to see you get hurt.’

‘I would rather not say a word to her about how I’m feeling.’

‘What happens, then?’

‘Like you said, I will move on _—_ just as I always do.’

‘In order to do that, you can’t have sex with her again _—_ ’

‘ _Obviously_.’

‘And I suggest you avoid being in her presence as much as possible. You can’t move on from somebody if you’re always in close proximity of one another. I respect you want to keep your job, but, honestly, the best way to get over somebody is to cut all ties with them. Block them from your life.’

Impa is uncomfortable with that idea.

To _remove_ Zelda, as if she never existed.

‘Oh, it’ll hurt. It’ll hurt for a long time, but that feeling disappears after a while, until one day you’ll look at her and wonder why you were ever attracted in the first place.’

That is difficult to believe. She wishes Purah would sugar-coat the situation, but she is her older sister, and she wants Impa to be happy. Or, as happy as she can be. This is _not_ a fairy tale, this is a nightmare. This is real. This is an _accident_ , something which should have never happened.

It upsets Impa, entertaining the idea of, well, _avoiding_ Zelda. She can return to Hyrule Castle, and ask for a transfer, or even a demotion. _Something_. Something which will give her reason not to be around the woman she is inevitably falling in love with. And Purah is right: there’s too much risk.

She has to move on.

Impa hopes King Rhoam isn’t cursing her from the heavens above.

Actually, Impa chooses _not_ to think about Princess Zelda’s father at this current time.

‘Of course there is the possibility that she feels mutual,’ Purah shrugs, ‘And if she feels mutual, then you’d be kicking yourself not to ask her about it. Besides, you two have sacrificed enough happiness, especially for each other, to not enjoy the small pleasures in life. Fuck me, I’m starving.’

‘So what _are_ you suggesting?’

‘You know, I haven’t the foggiest,’ Purah stands, moving towards her fireplace. ‘I do respect Her Highness, of course, but you _are_ my sister. I trust you know exactly what you want, but are you willing to take the risk?’ Purah hums to herself, ‘I don’t think you’ve ever lived life without taking risks, anyway, so God knows why I’m still speaking.’ A pause. ‘I’ve got some sort of burnt soup here, if you’re interested?’

Terrako has suddenly become vocal. He scuttles over to where Impa sits, whom is clearly lost in thought. She goes over Purah’s observation: _you take risks_ , and then reflects on all Mipha said to her, _give her time_. Perhaps, for now, Impa should not make any decisions. She should wait.

And she certainly can’t decide on anything until she has seen Princess Zelda again. How she will react to Impa’s arrival, whether she will even want her back. Whether a resignation form awaits her, or something far warmer.

The small bot nudges her.

‘ _Beep-bop_!’

Impa raises a brow at Terrako, then turns to her sister who is busy reheating this appetising burnt soup. ‘I think I will return to Hyrule Castle tomorrow, early.’

‘That’s fine by me,’ Purah murmurs, too distracted by her outrageously awful cooking abilities. ‘Do you have anything to wrap Terrako in during your journey?’

‘What, why?’

‘The little thing gets cold. And it’s a long trip. Can’t have him poorly now, can we?’

Impa groans, and presses her face into her hands.

Purah laughs.

Maybe it makes a difference to be in her sister’s company, and to share her household, because Impa sleeps soundlessly that night. Or, she could blame the easing hangover. The port has settled her stomach, and warmed her up, making rest easy to come by. It’s just as well, too. Impa has to be ready for her return in the morning, and, quite honestly, she is feeling rather anxious about it.

What will Zelda do, say, or think?

Are they friends again? Or, comrades at least?

Has Zelda forgotten about what occurred between them, and is her heart set on this King Pecasio?

When dawn arrives, Impa doesn’t think about him. She ties her hair into a bun _—_ a talent in itself, considering the mane she has _—_ and applies a little more makeup than usual, before leaving the guest room and meeting her sister downstairs. Purah is still in her gown, and not feeling as energetic as her sister. She manages to prepare themselves some tea, and offers Impa a few slices of bread and butter, to which Impa declines.

Clearly Terrako is aware he will be having an adventure today. Excited, he jumps onto the table and waits patiently for Impa to get herself ready. He watches keenly as the Sheikah warrior sharpens her kodachi, before sheathing it securely at her hip.

‘I think he’s excited,’ Purah mutters, patting the small bot on the head.

‘At least one of us is,’ Impa whispers under her breath. She downs her tea quickly, and then finally addresses Terrako, ‘Come on. I need to safely strap you to the horse.’

‘You’re not carrying him?’

‘I can’t carry him while handling the reins, can I?’

Purah eyes her. ‘You’re _strapping_ him to the horse?’

‘I will sit him behind me. Don’t worry. He will be comfortable.’

And with that, Impa proceeds over to the door, and Terrako follows happily. Impa’s horse waits outside, having fed earlier, and Impa, despite Purah’s suspicions, ensures Terrako is comfortably positioned on the saddle, nestled in, thanks to Purah’s insistence, a blanket. _This is just mental_ , she thinks to herself, ignoring Terrako’s grateful _chirp_ as she finishes tying the little thing to the saddle.

Purah has stepped out at this point, inspecting Impa’s work, mug in hand.

‘Aw, he looks so sweet. Try and be nice to him. You never know, you might make a friend.’

‘Hilarious.’ Impa faces her sister, ‘Thank you for having me.’

‘You were great entertainment,’ Purah grins, ‘So, when you have updates, please come back. Or, you can write to me. I know you’re allergic to sending letters, but _—_ ’

‘I’ll write,’ Impa confirms.

They embrace one another, and Purah squeezes her just a little harder.

‘You can always come back here, even when things go to shit.’

Impa smiles, and steps up to sit on the saddle.

‘Anybody would be lucky to have you,’ Purah says. ‘And I’m going to go and throw up now.’

‘You’re not so bad yourself,’ Impa smirks. ‘Love you.’

‘Love ya. Bye bye, Terrako!’

With the sound of Terrako _chirping_ his enthusiastic farewells, Purah watches her sister ride like a storm down the long hillside, until completely out of sight. A slight worry begins to creep up on her, as she hopes Impa won’t have to return anytime soon.

-

Princess Zelda is up early this morning. The guards are surprised to find her walking the hallways, fully dressed, before six o’ clock. Word is spread of the Princess’s abrupt awakening, and, within minutes, a rather flustered secretary has met with her in her office with the day’s dealings.

After last night, it was only expected King Pecasio would stay for another evening. After all, he has yet to meet Terrako, and, if Impa has stuck to her schedule, she should be returning to the Castle right now with the tiny bot. For the morning, King Pecasio would like to inspect the Castle grounds, before going hunting until the afternoon. Zelda is happy to give him that pleasure and privacy.

If she had to sum up King Pecasio, it would be tricky. He _is_ , indeed, a gentleman and he has a wonderful sense of humour. Like Zelda, his position as King is everything to him. Unlike Zelda, he is a proud ruler, and boasts freely about his country’s wealth and success. She would be surprised if he already didn’t have a queue of potential suitors.

King Pecasio has light features, clean shaven, and tall. Lanky, actually. He wears glasses and despite all the heroics told about him, he appears very normal. Zelda appreciates that about him, and she would have to be blind not to find His Majesty attractive. He speaks well, and his voice is soft, warm; in fact, King Pecasio reminds Princess Zelda of Prince Sidon in some ways. At least the more matured Prince Sidon.

And Prince Sidon is certainly charming!

It was good to have him present the prior evening. King Pecasio offered Zelda a relaxed distraction from the woman she hasn’t been able to stop thinking about the past three days. Impa has not responded to Zelda’s most recent letter, but that’s probably because there is nothing _to_ say. She fears, however, that the affection she daringly expressed in her latest letter might have been too much or, worse, unrequited.

She thinks about the two of them, knowing Lady Impa will arrive anytime soon.

The anxiety and excitement, the terror of not knowing what shall occur between them, makes it hard for Zelda to concentrate on her work. In fact, her emotions are so high, the Triforce on the back of her hand glimmers every so often. A minor warning that if she doesn’t calm down, she might just expel a little energy. This is what Impa does to her: she makes her abilities _—_ that of a God _—_ go haywire.

Hopefully one day Zelda will be much more in control of her powers. She is still new to them, though, and she is new to love.

Zelda wonders if she should act despondent. She hasn’t forgotten how Impa left her. After they kissed. After Zelda kissed _her_ , and, Gods, even thinking about _kissing her_ surges a rush of ecstasy through her body. Zelda has to focus. She has a King present today, someone she _is_ actually interested in. As well as that, she has her whole kingdom to serve as well. Besides, when she eventually sees Impa, maybe all of these flustered, passionate feelings will evaporate.

 _Triforce of Wisdom my arse_ , she thinks, nearly spilling the ink bottle.

When she hears the clatter of hooves below, Zelda decides _not_ to wait for Impa and be riddled with anxiety, but face her properly. Abandoning her desk, Zelda hurries down the long, spiral staircase, heart in her mouth, pretty sure she will vomit, or she will have a heart attack or might even _faint_ , but she does a good job at not expressing these concerns.

In fact, Zelda is very cool as she approaches her royal advisor.

And then she sees her. Impa gracefully jumps off the horse, and begins to untie Terrako from the saddle. Her hair is tied back in a bun, and she wears the traditional Sheikah uniform, a Hylian hood having shielded her from the wind during her travels. As she lowers the hood, Zelda’s breath catches, and Impa is just as beautiful, just as gorgeous, just as heart breaking as when she left her.

Their eyes meet.

Terrako immediately recognises the Hylian Princess. He manages to escape Impa’s grip, and hurries over to his favourite Hylian. Zelda is relieved for the interruption, and she greets the tiny bot with a smile. Terrako _chirps_ , overjoyed, and Zelda raises her eyes as Impa starts to walk towards her.

Both of them are impossible to read.

‘Your Royal Highness.’

‘Thank you, Impa,’ Zelda breathes. She pauses, struggling to find her voice, and then, ‘Are you well?’

‘Mhmm. You look _—_ uh, you look good.’ Impa nearly slaps herself. Then, in unison, they walk to the Castle together, Terrako following their heels. ‘Lady Mipha was appreciative of your gifts.’

‘Oh, I’m so pleased. How are she and Link fairing?’

‘Very well,’ Impa replies, ‘I am sure they would enjoy a visit from you soon.’

‘And Purah?’

‘Mad as ever.’

Zelda chuckles softly, ‘It’s good you both had some time together.’ She stops at the doors, and turns to Impa, her heart racing a mile a minute. They’re silent for a minute, two minutes, and Zelda’s eyes drop to Impa’s lips, then back to her eyes. ‘I know it’s only been three days, but it’s felt closer to a week.’

 _A month_ , Zelda wants to correct herself.

There is so much Impa wants to say. It’s all there, ready to be exposed, but she restrains herself, and it’s a challenge. Zelda is _glowing_ before her, and Impa noticed where her eyes roamed. They can’t, though. It’s stupid. It can’t happen. Besides, Impa is aware of the fact a certain His Majesty is present somewhere.

More than anything in the world, Zelda wants to kiss her.

The urge to do so is unbearable. Kissing Impa, thinking about kissing her, it’s all she has been able to think about, and she had hoped their separation would have eased these feelings. Apparently not.

And, apparently, they are both struggling.

Their tense silence is disturbed when Terrako _beep-bops_ up at them.

Zelda giggles at him, ‘It’s certainly been much quieter without you around.’

‘Thank you for your letters, Your Highness,’ Impa says, partially irritated yet also grateful for Terrako’s interruption. Zelda smiles warmly up at her, eyes dazzling. ‘Especially your latest. It was very touching.’

‘I meant every word,’ she replies softly.

For a second, Zelda lingers, but her hesitation is cut short.

Duty calls.

‘You may return to Kakariko Village when you retire this evening. You may go home.’

Before Impa can respond _—_ not that she’s entirely sure how to _—_ Zelda returns inside the Castle walls, Terrako glancing back at Impa, before following the Hylian Princess. Exhaling harshly, Impa soon follows, fists clenched.

She can’t deny the amount she is feeling, and tries her best not to read into Zelda’s offer.

How bizarre to think that the war was a simpler time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Took a few creative liberties with Impa and Purah’s backgrounds, as you can tell!
> 
> So... they’re back together. Kinda. Who knows what will happen next? ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8: Catastrophic**

* * *

The day flies by. Princess Zelda ensures Impa is with her most of the time, believing her insistence solely to be about the fact she requires her royal advisor. There isn’t any mention of the king who has yet to return to the castle grounds, and Impa can’t help but _dread_ the occasion when it arrives. She isn’t entirely sure whether Zelda would rather Impa remain, or retire early, so as not to confuse the matter.

In all honesty, it would perhaps make more sense if Impa and the king did not meet. Not until the situation between Zelda and him was made official. Then again, to send the wrong impression or to give the king any suspicious ideas, would only cause further issues. Impa decides not to think too deeply into the situation. Despite her own complicated feelings, she is, at the end of the day, a servant to the sovereign.

Terrako has made himself at home. He wanders the castle freely, and the guards take great interest in the little bot. Of course, this place was once his own too. Zelda hasn’t gone into detail with Impa about the significance of Terrako, but Impa knows that its significance is paramount. She notices that Zelda is, well, _lighter_ in her step now that Terrako is back; she smiles more, and is generally cheerier. Impa won’t entertain the idea that Zelda’s positive mood has anything to do with _her_ return.

‘I hoped we could train today. I would like it if you judged whether I’ve improved or not.’

Impa is pleasantly surprised Zelda has been training in her absence. ‘Of course.’

‘Without weapons. I know that is a style the Sheikah take pride in, and I would very much like to do the same.’

Technically, a Sheikah never enters battle without a weapon, but Impa gathers what Zelda means. An example of not using any weapons was demonstrated when she tackled the Guardian outside her sister’s lab. Zelda, on the other hand, has something more powerful than any weapon: herself.

She grins. ‘It would be my honour.’ _And, I won’t go easy on you either_. Why should she? Zelda is a God. Impa a mere mortal. The Sheikah warrior is more than keen to discover who is more superior in battle. Of course it’s Zelda, but Impa has always loved a little competition. If anything, it will distract them from everything else.

Including themselves.

Once in the training grounds, Zelda removes her coat, and Impa’s eyes catch sight of the Triforce on the back of her hand beginning to flicker alive.

An instinctive wave of fear crashes through her, and, suddenly, she’s not too sure just how much damage Zelda intends to inflict. It’s all well and good that Impa won’t go easy on her, but will Zelda with her?

Oh, well. She supposes that’s one way to go, and Purah will no doubt have great fun imagining her baby sister getting _destroyed_ by the Hylian Princess.

Perhaps Impa should stay on the defensive this time around, and stick to that position. She needs to ascertain just how serious Zelda is with this, as well as analyse whether the Princess is ready for a full-blown brawl. This is something Impa has done her whole life, since the day she learnt how to walk. Zelda, on the other hand, remains very new to this.

For a couple of seconds, Impa watches the Hylian Princess practice independently. Zelda raises her hand, and creates specs of light with each motion of her palm. It’s a fabulous sight, and Impa has a hunch these simple motions can cause more devastation than any weapon in the world.

It is thrilling to witness Zelda enjoy her godly abilities. But before Impa can remark on that fact, Zelda takes her off guard, influencing a beam of light towards her. Impa dodges quickly, jaw clenched, tense all over as the beam passes by _—_ _just_. Even though she managed to escape it, its heat nearly singes her face.

‘Oh,’ Zelda says, feigning innocence. ‘I thought you were ready.’

That _irks_ her. Impa smiles crookedly, and, without warning, manipulates a small patch of earth beneath her to break; in a single movement, shards of earth are sent flying in Zelda’s direction. Unlike Impa, Zelda is not as agile, and doesn’t quite escape the blow. A sharp piece catches her cheek, merely grazing it, but enough to cause a mark.

Although the Sheikah are renowned for their inventions, such as masks, weapons, machines and so on, including the Sheikah Slate, very few have natural gifts they were born with. Purah was not one of them, but, from a young age, just like a few ancestors have, Impa has been able to manipulate nature _—_ not as effectively as generations before, but that gift is still present in her blood.

She doesn’t use these abilities very much, though; far more comfortable with weaponry and artefacts.

Impa doesn’t express any signs of concern or empathy while Zelda finds her balance again. The young Princess calculates her next move, and is slightly infuriated at how _calm_ Impa actually is. Unless this is all an act on her part. Zelda decides it’s best she doesn’t think too hard about Impa’s mannerism, as it will only distract her.

Desperate to prove herself, and not lose again, Zelda adopts a speedier approach. What she expels from her body is no longer light, but heat _—_ as hot as the sun itself. Impa blocks some of her attacks, but, to her horror, the immense energy coming from these quick, devastatingly hot shards manage to rip right through her shield. She reacts immediately to this dilemma, but Zelda is persistent.

There isn’t any particular style in her battle. Like her powers, Zelda is random chaos, and Impa struggles with that. She has of course fought with monsters and people who are just awful at fighting back, but Zelda is not awful. She is terrifyingly powerful, how she dances around the energy she so effortlessly produces is seductive, and Impa realises Zelda is enjoying this. She enjoys this power.

What Impa also realises is that Zelda has managed to get closer and closer, so her jets of light are in closer proximity. The lack of distance naturally has a major impact on the intensity of its heat, and Impa gasps when the white hot energy is just too much. It’s as if heaven has opened, and she is bombarded by a force she simply cannot shield herself from. This is what it means to be a God; immortal.

Zelda burns her. Slightly. Impa tries her best to ignore the burnt wound on her wrist, and manages to wobble Zelda’s balance by projecting the heat back at her. This is only momentarily successful. Clearly Zelda doesn’t suffer from the vehemence of not only herself, but what the Goddess Hylia has gifted her with.

This is why King Rhoam was so adamant his daughter be kept safe. Why he was so desperate and impatient for her to access this gift, this almighty power which no man or woman will ever possess. This is a greatness not ever described in legend. This _is_ the Goddess reincarnated, and Impa feels like a fool for believing she had a chance at beating her. Yet, she can’t help but feel immensely proud.

Zelda doesn’t need protection anymore.

If anything, the world needs protection from _her_ , and Impa chuckles softly at that thought.

That is when Zelda stops.

For the moment.

‘You’re hurt.’

‘Sorry?’ Impa forgot that she is, indeed, wounded. ‘You needn’t worry, Your Highness. If anything, it’s a sign of your greatness.’ Although that’s putting it lightly. Impa examines the burn, and, in all fairness, it looks pretty nasty. She kind of wishes Mipha was nearby, so she could share her healing.

Apparently such a thought isn’t required. Zelda has come over, and Impa says nothing while the Princess gently rests her palm across the burn. Impa observes as the Triforce on the back of her hand glows for a good two to three minutes, and they’re both silent while Zelda concentrates on her magic.

Impa does not feel a thing. She doesn’t quite know what to expect until Zelda removes her hand, and Impa is amazed to discover the wound is gone.

‘Any damage I inflict, I found that I could heal. Every day I keep discovering new things about myself, and I was happy knowing that my powers weren’t strictly made to destroy.’

‘Thank you,’ Impa replies, ‘Saves another trip to Zora’s Domain.’

Zelda smiles. ‘What did you think?’

It takes Impa a second to realise Zelda is asking what Impa thought of the battle. Or whatever that was.

More a demonstration of what Zelda can do.

It is difficult not to express too much enthusiasm. Zelda still needs work, but, all things considered, she is _—_

‘Amazing,’ Impa replies honestly. So as to avoid the appearance of favouritism, she adds, ‘You still have issues with your balance.’

‘Well, I wouldn’t want to overwhelm you too much.’

‘Huh,’ Impa smirks. ‘You are remarkable, Your Highness.’

Zelda nods, grateful. ‘As are you. Your prowess is irrefutable.’

Considering how things developed earlier, Impa isn’t sure if she deserves such generous praise. To receive it from Zelda, as well, sends a shiver up and down her spine. Zelda isn’t remarkable. She is extraordinary. This is not the same woman Impa was ordered to protect nearly two years ago. Zelda has grown up, she has found herself, and it’s a wonderful sight, but Impa can’t help but feel a little _useless_.

Of course she is happy to advise Zelda in battle and such, but she doesn’t require knights anymore. She is one herself, and this is something Zelda has always wanted: to be called a warrior princess, just like Mipha was awarded the title. Maybe Impa just struggles to let go. To accept the fact that she had a good run, but Zelda doesn’t require her anymore _—_ not in the sense she was originally appointed.

Perhaps when she abused her privileges with the Princess nearly a week ago _—_ perhaps that was a sign it was time to leave. Impa has other options and, in the meantime, she can return to Kakariko Village, find work, or even visit her sister again. Undoubtedly Purah will be more than happy to put Impa to work.

It is odd, and disheartening, realising how simply one has led their life.

There were never any other options. She found her place within the Hylian army, and managed to stay there for another twenty years.

Maybe Link had the right idea: turning his back on a brief moment in history, and pursuing what he has always wanted. Except what Impa wants is right here, in front of her, belonging to an establishment Impa has no business stepping into.

‘I hope, one day, to be as good as you are.’

Impa laughs. ‘Your Highness, I am grateful, but you already are.’ She shrugs. ‘I think that much is evident.’ She pauses, and then, ‘Your father would be proud.’

Something flickers in Zelda’s eyes. A flame, being cast out.

‘Do you believe so?’

‘I am certain of it. They _both_ are, Your Highness: your mother and father.’

Nobody has ever mentioned Zelda’s mother before, especially so casually. Zelda drops her gaze momentarily, and then turns away. ‘I can never assume how my mother must have felt towards me.’ She sighs. ‘Unfortunately, she passed when I was very young. Days before my eighth birthday. I always wondered if things would have turned out for the better had my mother survived.’

Of course, when Zelda was eight, Impa was twelve.

Impa had not met the Queen of Hyrule in person, but witnessed her from afar. Purah didn’t take much interest in royalty, and felt relatively bitter towards them at the time. Impa, on the other hand, was always allured to the establishment. Curious. She knew this Queen had given birth to a God, but how could that be?

Back then, Impa wasn’t very familiar with the legends of Hyrule. The famous boy clad in green, and the Princess.

This story, this so-called legend, has gone quite differently.

Maybe it is no coincidence Impa was so fascinated in this Queen. Zelda is beginning to look very much like her late mother.

She recalls the Queen, dressed in blue, with her long, blonde hair. An angel, they called her. All the men and women fell in love with her immediately, amazed, awed. It is no surprise such a divine creature could birth a Goddess.

Then, to everybody’s grief, she died.

In a couple of years, Impa would then join the royal army; and, eventually, come to protect the Queen’s daughter.

‘Have you forgotten, Your Highness?’ Impa challenges. ‘You won. How _could_ have things gone better than that?’

‘I could’ve spared Hyrule sooner,’ Zelda whispers, turning to face her. She examines the Triforce. ‘Had I, perhaps, been given a more patient teacher; somebody who didn’t loathe my very existence, then maybe I would have understood _—_ ’ she drops her hand, exhaling harshly. ‘All it took was love, Impa. My mother gone, and my father refusing to be around me, I suppose it’s no surprise I struggled so much.’

‘Why are you so tough on yourself?’

‘Somebody has to be. I _have_ to be tough. That’s the only way I won’t fail everybody again.’

Impa isn’t entirely sure when it happened. Because, all of a sudden, she has walked over and is now holding Zelda’s hand between hers. She squeezes affectionately, and her smile is so warm, Zelda has to look away.

‘You are not a machine, Princess,’ she says. ‘You cannot be blamed for what was out of your control. You forget, also, that you helped us all along the way. Yes, your powers were dormant at the time, but you were present. You still fought. Besides, we all need to make a few mistakes in our lives so we can learn how to survive; how to be better people.’ She pauses. ‘Princess, you are not perfect, so stop trying to achieve the impossible. For the record, though, I believe you couldn’t come any closer to being perfect.’

Although Zelda can’t meet her gaze, she listens intently, heart racing.

‘You’re a good person, despite all that has happened to you. I don’t think anyone can ask for more than that.’

When Impa releases Zelda’s hand, the young Princess feels a jolt of possessiveness. Everything Impa has said warms her heart, swells her lungs with life, and she is _trembling_. Regardless of what happened between them, Impa still knows exactly how to calm her heavy head; how to discover light in a very dark place; challenging Zelda when necessary; keeping the Princess grounded.

Keeping her sane; reminding her that she is loved.

‘ _—_ I missed you.’

It’s more of a call. A plea. Impa needs to catch her breath. She faces the Hylian Princess, and nearly responds in kind, but something else, the more insecure side of her, what makes her feel vulnerable _—_ it tumbles, and Impa finds herself very much trapped with her own terrified thoughts, and the comfort of Zelda’s words.

This isn’t a mere _miss_.

This is damage.

_You are missing from me._

Impa doesn’t speak at first, eyes wide, uncertain whether she should say anything at all.

 _Show me_ , she wants to say, wants to _dare_ , wants to tell her. _Show me just how much you have missed me, Princess._

Impa breathes, and her mouth is dry, lungs tight from the lack of oxygen.

Then, a stupid reply; almost hopeless.

‘Did you?’

_Did you? Did you_ **_really_ ** _miss me? Just how_ **_much_ ** _did you miss me?_

_Tell me,_ **_please_ ** _, what you truly want to say._

Zelda feels dizzy. She doesn’t know whether Impa actually believes her, and the very idea that Impa would entertain the idea of Zelda _lying_ to her _—_ it breaks Zelda’s heart. A flash of frustrated anger assaults her, and the pain is indescribable.

Clenching her fists, Zelda struggles to maintain her composure, but

_it falls apart._

A confession, blossoming from her own defeat.

‘Don’t you want me anymore?’

A fissure ruptures within Impa, and, for a split second, she _begs_ this be a dream. Just because she cannot _bear_ the agony tearing in Zelda’s voice. The fact Impa could make somebody _feel like this_ ; the fact Impa has made Zelda, the one woman _—_ person _—_ in the world she cares the most about, Gods, she would _die_ for, over and over if she had to. But hasn’t that been obvious all along?

Zelda stands before her, torn apart, and offering her heart for Impa to hold. To cradle. To protect. To love.

They watch each other, daring the other to attack, daring the other to walk away, _daring_ for the denial, because denial is all they’ve ever known. Impa has never been asked for, been wanted, been loved like this before, and she has no idea what to do.

When they kiss _—_ the very sensation is enough to make Zelda collapse. She gasps, moans against Impa’s mouth as she struggles to express just how much she needs this. In her enthusiasm, her desperation, Zelda kisses her so much, she accidentally nips Impa’s lower lip, and she can taste blood.

Impa can’t balance them both. She isn’t strong enough. Within seconds, Zelda’s back is pressed to the Castle wall, and Zelda welcomes the manoeuvre. She pulls at Impa’s collar, their kisses long and hard, _delayed_ , and Zelda is certain she will explode; the intensity of Impa against her, her mouth on hers, how familiar yet terribly missed she is.

Zelda wants more. She wants her forever, and she wants that to be clear, _she wants to tell her that_ , but she also doesn’t want to let her go. Hot tears sting her eyes, squeezed out and rolling down her cheeks as she clings to her, a woman possessed, and she wishes, _wishes_ , Impa even had the slightest idea of just how _pivotal_ she is for Zelda. That there is no Hyrule, no world they can live, without Impa in her life.

It horrifies Zelda that there was once a time when Impa did not exist in her life. That there was a time she didn’t even think of the Sheikah once. That she hadn’t a clue just how important this stranger would one day become. What an ignorant, empty time that was. Or, if anything, painless.

_Why—_

_Why does loving you hurt me so?_

Zelda’s cheeks are flushed, lips swollen, chest heaving, breaths heavy, eyes glowing, and she has never looked more alive. She is utterly radiant, and how anybody of such divinity could ever notice someone as _wretched_ as Impa, it overwhelms her with a feverous love for this young Princess.

That is all she is certain of now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Phew, this was kind of hard work to write. I truly hope you enjoyed it!


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: Falling Silent**

* * *

_Even before she reaches the room, she can hear him. A deep, terrifying voice which vibrates the walls, and forces all men and women around him to shudder in fear. One can only imagine what such a presence like this does to a little girl, who has no choice but to endure her father’s rage; his anxiety; his love for her. She glances at the guard positioned outside the room. He is young, and he is trying his best not to express any sympathy for the young princess within. The one suffering the king’s discipline._

_There are greater nightmares, though._

_Impa knocks lightly on the door. The king stops talking, and orders her to enter. His voice has noticeably changed; it’s less harsh, at least. Impa steps inside, turning immediately to her sovereign. As is custom, she bows, ‘Your Majesty,’ and then she acknowledges the princess, ‘Your Royal Highness.’ Then her eyes meet Princess Zelda’s, and Impa can tell the girl has been crying._

_The king steps towards her, ‘Excellent. You’re here. I know you and my daughter have not been formally introduced. The two of you will have plenty of time to be acquainted, as you will be giving her basic combat training. If my daughter cannot defend herself as she ought to, then I have no choice than to offer alternatives.’ He doesn’t look at Impa once, eyes pressed heavy into Zelda. ‘Perhaps the experience, in itself, shall be beneficial to you both. Sometimes I wish this had all gone so differently.’_

_Deciding it best not to analyse the king’s remarks, Impa waits patiently for him to finish his speech, deliberately not looking at Zelda. The princess is struggling to withhold tears, and Impa finds it easier to just stare at the wall. She cannot defend the princess, nor criticise her king. This is the way it is, and Impa, while she struggles with the king’s intolerance for his daughter, does sympathise with them both._

_Clearly a great deal of miscommunication has occurred._

_The king steps past Impa, ‘You will provide lessons every day. Maybe, granted we have Hylia’s mercy, she will reach your level.’ He shakes his head. ‘Then again, perhaps not.’ And, leaving a horrific chill in the air, the king leaves the room, closing the door behind him. Immediately, Zelda turns away, facing the window, just to hide herself as she tries her best to control herself; to not burst into tears._

_Impa allows Zelda time to recover, and doesn’t say anything for a short while._

_Although it is considered a rumour, Impa heard that the young princess was a fan of frogs, which coincidentally are considered the Sheikah guardian deities. The stories and legends as to why that is the case are vast, but Impa wonders if the rumour has any merit. Subtly, she magically produces a small, dark green frog and it drops to the floor, before hopping over to where Zelda stands._

_She hears it first. Looks down, and laughs in disbelief._

_‘Where did you come from?’_

_Impa smiles crookedly, but still doesn’t say a word. She watches as the young princess picks up the frog, an exhausted smile reaching her lips. Then, finally, Zelda turns her attention to the Sheikah warrior. The two haven’t conversed very much, and have mostly seen each other from afar. Zelda knows Impa is one of her father’s closest advisors, which is remarkable, considering Impa’s young age._

_For a moment, Zelda simply studies her, curious._

_Her voice is gentle when she speaks, ‘I have been reading about your culture a lot lately. I’ve always been fascinated in your magic, and the fact your ancestors once served Hylia herself. Do you believe in those legends?’_

_If Impa did not believe them, she would make a poor Sheikah. The warrior points to her tattooed forehead: the Sheikah eye symbol. ‘This is a symbol of my bloodline: generations before me, who served the Hylian royal family, or, in your case, the Goddess herself.’ Purah had mentioned the history behind Impa’s name, but every time Impa queried about it, her older sister tended to brush it off as irrelevant._

_Only upon serving the king did the implications of her name carry meaning. There was another who served the Princess Zelda, although that was a very different time indeed. Ganondorf had taken a physical, human form; the boy in green had to travel through time, and the princess went into hiding, adopting the traditions of the Sheikah._

_‘They are thrilling stories, aren’t they?’_

_Zelda’s eyes glow. ‘Yes, they truly are.’ The frog remains calm in her hands. ‘Father wishes I lived up to generations before me as well. He gets so angry. Why, he asks, why can’t you be more like your great, great, great grandmother?’ Zelda rolls her eyes. ‘How can I be? I never knew her.’_

_‘His Majesty only cares for your wellbeing, princess.’_

_‘I know,’ Zelda breathes. ‘I just—if only I didn’t disappoint him so.’_

_‘Sometimes when we’re afraid, we express anger instead. He needn’t worry about you, though. I’ll help you, and while you develop your God-given abilities, I will protect you.’ As her father has ordered but also, one Impa is honoured to oblige to. ‘How does that sound, Your Highness?’_

_Zelda smiles weakly. ‘Okay,’ she lowers her gaze to the frog. ‘Thank you, by the way.’_

_‘Whatever for?’_

_‘You gave me the frog, did you not?’ Zelda shrugs. ‘I didn’t think you’d know it’s my birthday today. I am appreciative of the gift.’_

_‘Of course,’ Impa lies, and the moment Zelda turns away again, her smile drops. There is no reason for a royal advisor to recall the princess’s birthday, especially when their priorities lie with the king. Impa knew, vaguely, of the day the princess would turn fourteen, but she hadn’t realised it was today._

_To have her birthday dominated by her father’s disproval, and then to be thrown into the care of a complete stranger—what a treat._

_Impa takes a step closer._

_‘Would Her Highness prefer to ride out? We don’t have to train in the castle grounds, after all.’_

_Zelda smiles, and it’s so sweet and sad. ‘Yes, please. That sounds wonderful.’_

-

They haven’t said a word to each other. What occurred, _what they did_ , neither mention as they return to the castle, Impa a few steps behind the princess. Zelda tries her hardest to remain alert, not to think too deeply, or, at least, not allow what happened to fever her thoughts. She feels vulnerable, shaky and despite all that she said to Impa, the matter hasn’t been completely resolved yet.

Abruptly and silently, they had stopped kissing, and neither gave each other the opportunity to, at least, recover. Zelda actually feels nauseous, wondering whether she had said too much; and she regrets ending their kiss so suddenly. She wanted more. She _has_ wanted more for days, and more than anything, Zelda wants to turn back to Impa and ask _her_ what she feels too. Whether she feels the same or, _nothing_.

Of course Impa feels something. A lot. Zelda’s words plague her mind, and she inhales sharply once they’re back inside. She can still hear her, _don’t you want me anymore?_ and her lips still tingle from when they kissed. How, in Zelda’s passion, she managed to cut her lower lip which fortunately has stopped bleeding. The wound is evident, though, but there’s nothing she can do about it.

If anybody did wonder, they would simply believe it a battle wound.

King Pecasio will be returning shortly, and Zelda excuses herself from the staff as she prepares herself for the occasion. In the meantime, as expected, Impa wanders the hallways waiting for the king to appear to greet him, and direct him to the appropriate room. As she turns a corner, there is a familiar _beep-bop_ from behind.

‘I wondered where you’d got to,’ Impa mutters, not even turning to look at Terrako. ‘It’s just as well you’re here, actually. Follow me.’

Terrako follows Impa through the castle, and towards the main entrance. He stands at her ankle, like some obedient creature, and observes the gates. Does he know what’s happening? At times, Impa sincerely wonders whether Terrako can feel; whether he has independent thoughts of his own.

One would assume he does. After all, he and Zelda share a lifelong connection, and there is something intriguing about him. He knows a song from Zelda’s childhood, an ancient tune Impa has only read about. A lullaby, which once sent the great Goddess to sleep. There is nothing joyous about the melody; it’s sad, and lonely. The very epitome of the Princess of Hyrule’s existence.

Tragic.

No matter how hard she tries, she will always be a brutal failure.

The world’s hopeless disappointment.

In every legend, there is one significant figure who is absent. The mother. Impa finds it no coincidence that the Zelda she knows is motherless also. A cruel, almost _amusing_ fate the Goddess herself placed upon the princess. Impa has never felt resentful towards Hylia. Why would she? Her traditions value the Goddess more than any other tribe in the world. Not to mention the princess she resolutely serves _is_ , indeed, a fragment of the devastation that is Goddess Hylia.

There is never a mother in the legends of Zelda, but is that mere coincidence?

Yet Terrako offers Zelda the comfort only a mother can provide. The warmth and unconditional love one only receives from a mother. Or, so Impa has been told. She wouldn’t know. But Terrako’s significance makes Impa wonder, perhaps too deeply, on what truly goes on in this bot’s mind.

Does he possess a spirit?

A heart? Not in the physical sense, but in all ways a heart counts.

Is it truly plausible to believe that the spirit of Zelda’s mother has been capsuled within Terrako? It would explain why Zelda is so close to him. Or her.

While they wait, Impa crouches to finally acknowledge Terrako, and he greets her with optimism. She already feels stupid for what she is about to ask, but who else is there to discuss the matter with?

Besides, Terrako appears keenly interested.

‘I fear I am causing the princess more pain than anything.’ She sighs, ‘What am I to do?’

Terrako _bips_ happily, and Impa doesn’t know why she bothered in the first place. Before she stands up though, Terrako, rather forcefully, walks into her. Impa narrows her brows, confused, and then Terrako does it again.

‘What the _—_? Do you _mind_?’

Scowling, she straightens herself, and lightly taps the bot with her boot.

‘You’re just a pain in my arse _—_ ’

Terrako nudges her again, and Impa is seconds from kicking him across the grounds, when she realises he is trying to nudge her back inside the castle. He _beep-bops_ again, although it’s less jolly; more frantic.

And she can hear it in his hurried _beeps—_

_Just ask her. Tell her. Tell her!_

After all, the only person who knows what Zelda wants is Zelda herself. If Impa is causing her pain, then Zelda would most likely tell her eventually. Of course, such a result would only occur quicker if Impa asked.

Before Impa can entertain Terrako’s so-called advice, the main gates open.

Terrako immediately shuts up. To Impa’s gratitude. Yet as she proceeds to greet the king, she has to make an effort not to think too much into what Terrako just did. Maybe she was reading into something that was honestly nothing. Yet as she proceeds to help the king and his horse, Terrako deliberately bashes into her ankle.

‘Bloody teapot _—_ ’ Impa carefully, but with enough force, knocks Terrako away.

The king chuckles, ‘I hope you’re not referring to me as a bloody teapot.’ Impa holds onto the reins, as King Pecasio hops off his horse. She bows. ‘Now, hang on. I remember you. It feels months ago.’

Impa had met him in a less formal scenario, and she is amused he remembers her.

Then again, why wouldn’t he?

‘Of course. Princess Zelda’s precious knight.’

‘Uh, no. That’s another.’ Impa nearly laughs. Link is precious, that’s for sure. ‘I am Her Royal Highness’s advisor.’ _Whatever that is_ , she thinks.

The king studies her briefly, ‘Oh. I thought you were the one whom protected her during the war.’

Strictly speaking, there were two of them, although Impa isn’t sure who deserves the title most.

Terrako is nudging her again. Impa sighs, ‘I apologise, sir. For some reason, this little one is getting restless. Her Highness was hoping to show him to you.’

The king looks down at Terrako, who has, fortunately, ceased beating up Impa’s sore ankle.

‘He is quite charming,’ he comments, and Terrako lets out a high-pitched welcome. ‘Heh. And chatty, too. How fascinating.’

‘I would find him more fascinating if he knew how to be quiet.’

The king laughs. ‘Princess Zelda warned me about your tongue.’ Impa can’t help but wonder if there’s a subtle euphemism in that. She raises a brow. King Pecasio smiles, amused. ‘She certainly spoke fondly of you during your absence. I suspect you will be joining us both this evening?’

‘That depends on Her Highness’s preferences.’

‘What _are_ her preferences?’

‘Depends on the year,’ Impa doesn’t mean to slate Zelda, so quickly adds, ‘Her Royal Highness has been through a great deal, after all.’

‘If it weren’t for her, none of us would be standing here,’ Pecasio sympathises. Impa lowers her gaze. ‘I understand why you are so loyal.’

Impa clears her throat, ‘I shall send your horse to the stables. Please, sir, Her Royal Highness will meet you inside.’

‘Thank you. It’s Impa, isn’t it?’

‘That’s right.’

‘Like the nanny?’

Impa frowns. ‘I’m sorry, sir?’

‘Nothing,’ Pecasio says softly. ‘Just a, uh _—_ a joke.’

Not really sure what to think of that, Impa bows briefly and takes the horse round the back of the castle. The stableman manages the horse from there, and that’s when Impa realises Terrako is still following her. Goodness, did Link feel this harassed during the war? She distinctly remembers Terrako following him everywhere.

As she returns to the castle, Terrako is vocal again, but Impa is too distracted to try and figure out what exactly he is trying to tell her. She spots the king, who has been advised by one of the guards to meet Princess Zelda here: one of the many living rooms Hyrule Castle possesses. A fire crackles, and the room glows warmly with candles.

Impa makes it clear to the king that there are a selection of appetisers and drinks available on the table. Would he like anything?

King Pecasio comes over, inspecting. ‘What are you having?’

Impa has to restrain herself from laughing. ‘I cannot drink, sir.’

‘Oh?’

‘It would be _wildly_ inappropriate.’

‘I am certain you practice strict discipline every day.’

Actually, she does. And, despite Impa’s rather distracted personality, she has never belittled her princess or king by abusing her position in such a manner. It is Impa’s job to simply serve, and ensure that the princess and her guest are comfortable. The king, thankfully, doesn’t push the matter, and in fact seems to forget instantly when he requests a bottle of bubbly be shared between he and Zelda.

It’s a good choice. A safe one.

This is potentially the king’s final night here.

 _Why not celebrate?_ Impa thinks, effortlessly uncorking the bottle, and pouring out two glasses.

Terrako is silent now. He sits patiently for Princess Zelda to arrive.

King Pecasio turns his attention to the wide windows instead, which provide him with an almighty view of Hyrule. Impa follows his line of gaze, exhaling slowly. How must one feel, to rule all of this?

‘Your Majesty.’

‘Yes?’ Pecasio turns to her.

‘If you don’t mind my asking, what did you mean by “like the nanny”?’

‘Oh!’ He chuckles. ‘I meant nothing untoward. Is it not in the legends, though? The Princess Zelda was raised by her nanny, Impa. At least I _think_ that was the name.’ He grimaces, trying his best to remember the story. ‘She was the one who sent Princess Zelda away, when the Dark Lord Ganondorf struck. The princess, as a result, grew up with the Sheikah, did she not? Became one of them?’

That is a twist to the story Impa has not heard about.

She knew that this Zelda in particular had to go into hiding, but Impa didn’t consider whether she had truly _become_ one of the Sheikah.

‘One is only born Sheikah,’ Impa corrects. ‘It wouldn’t have been possible for her to _become_ one, sir.’

‘Ah.’ Pecasio nods. ‘A good story though, is it not?’

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Anyway, there was a royal advisor turned nanny at the time, who belonged to your respective tribe. Whether or not that’s true, who knows?’

The door opens behind them. Impa straightens, heart stopping altogether, when Princess Zelda enters the room. Her eyes are immediately drawn to her. Zelda wears blue, the dress fitting around her waist, and long satin evening gloves. She has styled her hair beautifully, golden twirls cascading down her back, and Impa feels a pang of jealousy _—_ a knife, cut deep into her heart.

A sudden, horrible urge to scream _—_ _but she’s mine!_

‘Your Majesty,’ Zelda smiles. ‘I hope your ventures were pleasant today.’

‘Very much so. You must be very proud of your people: most welcome and polite. Speaking of, I have just been talking to your kni _—_ uh, royal advisor. She has been most hospitable, as has this one.’ He gestures to Terrako, who has slowly moved toward Zelda. ‘Was this whom you wished to show me?’

‘Mhmm,’ Zelda nods. ‘Terrako. He was the one who came from the future, and changed all of our fates.’ She chuckles lightly. ‘It sounds insane when I say it outright, but I have a few witnesses to the occasion,’ her eyes catch Impa’s, and then flick back to the king. He has now crouched down to study Terrako, and they stare at each other with equal curiosity. ‘Terrako was, in fact, taken away from me when I was a child. Somehow, he found his way back to me, and here we are.’

Almost nervously, Zelda sips at the champagne.

‘What a story,’ Pecasio whispers. ‘A thrill, I’m sure.’

‘And a long time ago now,’ Zelda says, dismissively. ‘I would very much enjoy you to continue what you were discussing last night before we retired,’ before the king can oblige, Zelda turns to Impa. ‘You may go.’

Impa fights back the urge to glower.

She knows her place. When all is said and done.

It’s not the first time Zelda has dismissed her like this, although Impa wonders when she will stop feeling so surprised.

She is _not_ Zelda’s equal.

‘Very good, Your Highness.’

Tears sting her eyes as she walks away, and she can feel Zelda’s eyes boring into her back as the door closes behind her. Desperate not to fall apart, Impa hurries out of the castle grounds and, as Zelda ordered her earlier today, Impa makes her way to a place she hasn’t visited in so long.

Home: Kakariko Village.

-

As the sunset falls on this small, peaceful village, radiating a glow of serenity across its fields and livestock, a couple of locals point in surprise when Impa walks through the gates. Water flows nearby, cuccos as vocal as ever, and a statue of Hylia remains standing, surrounded by the blue and green of mother nature.

Impa can’t recall when she was last here. There are new faces, and some old ones too, but she isn’t feeling particularly social this evening. Before she reaches her abandoned home, Impa is already removing her outer uniform, desperate to be rid of all that associates her with the legends and regal and scorn that is the royal family.

It’s nice to be home, though. Impa dumps her weapons aside, and opens the patio doors at the back of the house. She has a small sitting area, where she can enjoy the sunset and listen to the peaceful village as it flutters around her. This is Impa’s favourite way to relax, although it’s been a while.

She teases herself to some booze _—_ _a little_ , mind _—_ and makes herself comfortable on the deck.

Her throat feels strangled. Legs achy. She is exhausted with all things Zelda, and, if anything, she should take this opportunity _not_ to think about her. Close off her mind, focus on all the smells, sounds and temperatures her body is currently aware of. To relax, and sink into the tranquillity of nature.

Every Sheikah’s favourite companion.

At some point, Impa must have fallen asleep, because she awakes with a start. The sun hasn’t completely hid itself behind the mountains yet, but there is a distinct change in temperature as she adjusts her vision.

Rubbing her eye with the back of her heel, she idly looks over her shoulder and _—_

‘Oh, _fuck_!’

She presses a hand to her chest.

‘Your Highness, you scared me.’

‘Sorry.’

Impa looks again. It’s definitely Zelda.

‘I hope you don’t mind. Your door was unlocked, and your neighbour told me to head straight inside.’

Realising that this is indeed Princess Zelda, Impa stands to her feet and bows. ‘My apologies, Your Highness. Had I known, I wouldn’t have _—_ ’

‘Please,’ Zelda says gently. ‘I’m the one intruding. It’s your forgiveness I should ask for.’

Impa has a thousand questions running in her mind, and decides to focus on the most paramount one.

‘Why are you here?’

Zelda smiles, apparently pleased Impa asked.

‘The moment you left, I had to tell him. I had to be honest with him. Of course, it would have been relatively awkward if I refused his affections with you present. I had to spare his blushes, Impa, you must understand. While I was getting ready, I started to think _—_ well, about what is expected of me. Who I am. What is _right_. What do my people want from me? What would my father expect of me?’

Zelda steps in front of her loyal advisor, thinking.

‘Then, I had a truly thrilling moment in which I asked myself: what do _I_ want?’

In all fairness, Impa isn’t entirely certain where this is going, but Zelda’s sudden bright enthusiasm fills her with a sensation she doesn’t recognise. All the panic and anxiety from earlier seems to have vanished between them; this terror of the unexpected. This horrendous pressure to be anything but imperfect.

Zelda has never been so light on her feet.

Her face, so radiant and _—_ _free_. Her eyes revealing a future she holds so dearly, and what she wants to share with somebody else. Somebody she trusts, somebody she loves, somebody she wants.

‘I felt so guilty,’ Zelda breathes, smiling. ‘A rogue. Going against all my father and teachers told me, and thinking back to what my mother always said: what makes a sovereign great is to be, first and foremost, human. Everything else goes from there. I suppose now I’m beginning to realise what she meant.’

‘Which is?’ Because, honestly, the meaning is lost on Impa.

‘I have a choice.’

Perhaps Zelda is on her own tangent, trying to justify her reasons for behind here. For turning her back on King Pecasio, and actually going out of her way to visit Impa’s home. To be with her. It needn’t matter what her mother meant _—_ not really. What matters _is_ Zelda’s choice, her decision.

_I have a choice._

_I have a choice to be happy._

‘When you were away, I had hoped the feeling would settle. That what occurred between us was irrelevant, but every time I received one of your wonderful letters, my heart would _burst_ , and I’d _pray_ that days would go faster. I was so confused, I had Lady Urbosa visit. She helped me a great deal, and told me to give it time; to allow what I was feeling to develop, and at least wait until you returned before I made any decisions. Only when I saw you for the first time in days, did it truly sink in. I don’t know how long I’ve felt this way towards you for, whether I always have, since the day you gave me that frog for my fifteenth birthday. You have always been so central in my life, and I can’t imagine life without you.’

Zelda needs to catch her breath.

What exactly is she trying to say? She’s flushed, panicking slightly.

What _is_ she trying to say?

Zelda looks at her, and the glass shatters between them.

‘I love you.’

The feeling is pure elation. Impa wants to laugh, she’s just in pure disbelief, in _heaven_ ; the two of them locked in euphoria, and the world crashes either side of them, and all that matters is the woman before her. This divine, infuriating, wonder of a woman. A princess, a queen, whom she will stand by until her dying day.

Zelda has never seen Impa look at anyone like this before.

‘That’s why you’re here?’

‘It would seem that way,’ Zelda murmurs, still amazed she managed to confess those three words. Her heart swells and she giggles nervously. ‘I admit, I probably left it a little late, but surely you appreciate my hesitations.’

Impa says something in her own language, quiet. Then, before Zelda can say another word, she pulls the princess towards her, and Zelda obliges, a rush in her head as she feels Impa’s lips brush against hers. A small, happy glimmer of a smile glows Zelda’s face, and she bumps her nose into hers, and they’re kissing, and this is nothing like their usual kisses. This is different, this is better, this is theirs.

All the frenzy of every other time _—_ disappeared. Zelda is _smiling_. This incredible happiness, it makes her tremble and feel more whole than she ever has in her life. How she can be gifted with so much joy, from one person, it baffles her. And she doesn’t hesitate to have it all, to share it, to _cling desperately_ to this woman whom she owes the world to. She loves her more than life.

Her gasps are hot against Impa’s cheek as Impa encourages her into the house, slowly beginning to untie Zelda’s dress. Zelda responds enthusiastically, and with a little less care as she practically tears at Impa’s navy garment. They manage to get as far as the table, lip-locked, and Zelda loses patience, moaning as she bites on Impa’s already wounded lip, pulling, sucking softly on her tongue, as her palms greedily smooth up her stomach, finding her breasts; Zelda blushes a bright red, and they feel just as she remembered; almost like silk in her trembling hold.

Zelda pushes her naked body into hers, their breasts pressed as she scatters kisses down Impa’s neck, her jawline, collarbone, before finding her lips again. Impa is initiating less this time around, and seems to enjoy Zelda’s burst of confidence. In fact, she welcomes it, a reassurance of what Zelda confessed to her only minutes ago.

Except, like before, it’s all a blur. Some fever they’re lost in; a chaotic hurry as they discard each other’s clothes, and within seconds, Zelda’s back touches the floorboard, and she arches her back, panting, eyes closed as Impa kisses and sucks briefly on her nipple, causing a dizzying bolt of electricity to scatter through Zelda’s body. She groans, knocking her head back and whispering _yes, yes, yes_ when Impa lowers herself to the right place. Zelda has been _wanting_ this for so long and _—_

A small cry breaks from her. Impa’s tongue is on her clit, and she’s persistent, fingers pressed into Zelda’s thighs as the princess moans and writhes beneath her. Breathless, Zelda rests her foot on Impa’s shoulder, allowing her more room, and Zelda is seconds from climaxing when Impa suddenly stops. Mortified, Zelda doesn’t know whether to yell or panic, but she is immediately silenced when Impa slams her lips to hers, her finger slowly working at her clit again.

Zelda wraps her arms around Impa, chest heaving, eyes rolling into the back of her head as Impa daringly slips her finger inside of her. Of course, Zelda has never had anyone touch her down there, _like_ _this_ , before. So Impa does this gradually, not at all wishing to cause the princess any discomfort. It requires a few movements of friction, and Impa nearly loses her breath when Zelda starts to express her enjoyment again. As Impa slips in another finger, she can feel Zelda tighten around her; she’s beautifully wet while Impa helps Zelda ride to an orgasm, the pad of the thumb pressing softly against her clit, working up further shocks of pleasure.

‘ _—_ _o—oh_ , yes, _Impa_!’

Then her entire body tenses. Impa can feel her flutter, as the waves of her orgasm carry Zelda far, far away. She kisses Zelda’s cheeks, her lips, waiting for Zelda to recover. The princess twitches every now and again, beginning to calm. She opens her eyes, smiling lazily as they come back together, lips pressed, palms caressing the other; knowing one another, every detail, every scar, everything which makes them beautiful.

With her lips still on hers, Zelda rolls them over, feeling the muscles in Impa’s thigh as she teases her slightly. Impa grasps at her wrist, cheeks flushed, and Zelda moves in, kissing her just below her ear, still shaking from her orgasm, whispering, ‘This is really nice,’ and Impa intertwines their fingers, squeezing.

‘Mhmm,’ barely able to form words, Impa says, ‘I need you.’

The command itself nearly sends Zelda over the edge. And, of course, she obliges.

Almost the second Zelda’s mouth is between her thighs, Zelda knows she is going to enjoy this. Impa is already wet, and Zelda is only all the more inspired. Eyes closed, she tastes her clit; she’s warm, slightly bitter, but it’s a taste Zelda honestly doesn’t mind. In fact, this is far more pleasant than she anticipated, and easier, and _—_ oh, Zelda _really_ gets why Impa enjoys this position with her.

Zelda isn’t rough by any means, but, God help Impa, she is merciless. Her tongue rubs into her relentlessly, and it’s all in such quick, hard movements, Impa isn’t given a chance to address what sensation is what. All she can handle is the fact that Zelda feels really fucking good, and it’s been a long, long time _—_ if ever _—_ for someone to have Impa making such a _noise_. Always quiet during sex, it’s been safely assumed by Impa’s lovers she just doesn’t want to be vocal, and that is true.

Only _—_ right now _—_ Impa can’t help herself.

It’s almost _torture_ , this. Impa pulls at Zelda’s hair, and it’s actually difficult to achieve orgasm, the pleasure is so overwhelming. However, Zelda is patient, and she would do this all night if she could. Desperate, Impa manages to ride it out, and cries out when she comes, the most exhilarating, gorgeous sound Zelda has ever heard in her life.

She shudders as Impa drags Zelda up, and they kiss, hands fumbling, limbs knocking together, entangled in one another.

Lost in the pitch darkness together, finally happy; just as it was always supposed to be.

‘I love you. I always have.’

Zelda opens her eyes, and cradles Impa’s treasured words close to her heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My God, I... wrote a fair bit today.  
> So. It only took them how many chapters to get over themselves?
> 
> As always, thank you so much for your kind and generous feedback. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and I hope to update in the very near future.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: In A Name**

* * *

The sun glows, radiating across her skin; she is the image of a God. Something otherworldly, a beauty, a devastation, and she is both destructive and terrifying. To be next to somebody with such divinity, to lie beside another who could destroy her in a heartbeat. This princess, this warrior, this beast _—_ she is not human. And the world knows it. The world accepts it. And yet, to lie beside her, their bodies so vulnerable to the burn of the sunrise, and their bodies suddenly at rest, it is more of a mercy than Goddess Hylia’s heaven could ever grant.

How did it all reach to this point? As her sole guardian, her advisor, somebody who swore her life to protect her. And yet, stripped from their armour, their blades and swords and malice. She _loves_ her. Wants nothing more in the world than to be with _her_. Just her, and only her. To actually entertain the idea that, beyond her hell, there is a life. A life which does not represent who she is, what she is, what she _has_ become. This is Zelda Bosphoramus, and she is devastatingly perfect.

As the sun of Hylia begins to ascend, Princess Zelda reaches out, and touches Impa. She is still asleep, and she has never witnessed the woman more at peace. It warms her whole being, makes her sigh and think, _I could live like this forever_ , and yet the demands of reality strike true in her mind. She winces. She weeps silently, wishing their fate could be written differently.

Maybe it was, once?

Maybe, in a legend not written, there was a princess who fell for not only a woman, but an advisor. Somebody not royal. Somebody considered irrelevant in aristocracy. Zelda holds her breath, squeezing her eyes shut, and, not for the first time, curses the Goddess who has tortured not so much she, but those she adores. Be it her people, her friends, her comrades, her father, her lover.

Zelda wonders about another Zelda. A Zelda who did not have Terrako. She wonders what she must be like. Whether she exists. She wonders, _would I ever meet her?_ Or, more accurately, if the occasion was gifted to her, _should_ she meet her? Zelda tries hard not to consider why Sidon, Riju, Teba and Yunobo travelled to their world, what they must have thought.

Of course, Princess Zelda will never forget how Prince Sidon looked at her. A mix of anger and guilt and sheer sympathy. They never spoke a word. Yet, when Sidon saw Impa, his expression changed drastically. He was confused. He even asked, _who are you_? And Zelda wonders, was Impa not a significant part of the war in his timeline? She wonders, perhaps too deeply, whether Impa was severaly absent.

Zelda suddenly feels hurt.

Impa. An absent Impa.

_Where were you?_

Opening her eyes, Zelda snuggles up to Impa, and, still asleep, the Sheikah subconsciously drags her into a warm, comforting embrace. While they snuggle, Zelda’s eyes remain wide open, and she’s frowning, _thinking_. Zelda thinks, as she always has before, during and after this war. _Where were you, Impa?_ But, more importantly than that, _where was I?_ Zelda curses this other Zelda who failed.

_What was **your** excuse?_

A poisonous anger floods her veins, rotting her bones and mind. She stiffens in Impa’s oblivious embrace, and begins to wonder just _how much_ she has truly achieved.

Nothing.

At least, the minimum.

 _I am no princess, let alone a hero_.

Reaching up slightly, Zelda kisses Impa’s jawline, and can’t help but smile slightly as her lover tightens their embrace. She adores Impa’s temporary ignorance, the fact all she is aware of is _—_ what’s here. Them. _Themselves_. The two of them, locked and safe in their own love, hidden away in Kakariko Village, and Zelda’s eyes begin to sting. Her heart explodes in her chest and she _clings_ to her.

 _My love, I do not deserve you_.

As soon as the thought comes to her, Zelda’s chest tightens, her lungs surrender, and she buries herself in the crook of Impa’s neck. Silently, as still as Hylia’s statue, she weeps and that’s when Impa begins to stir. Initially, Impa wonders if she is truly dreaming, but then she realises, her heart leaping out of her chest _—_

 _Oh, Gods. She **is** crying_.

Naturally, a thousand thoughts hit her mind.

Naturally, Impa needs to know what is wrong.

When Impa acknowledges her upset state, Zelda panics, and she doesn’t know what to do, except react on instinct. Impa has always offered her protection and security, so she responds to exactly that. Before a word can be said, Zelda tangles herself with Impa, holding her tightly, ensuring she can feel her against her _—_ _any chance to know she is still breathing and alive—_ and just

sobs.

It feels months ago.

Centuries ago.

When Impa told her

 _don’t cry, princess_.

What happens, whatever is happened to _us_ , we shall get through this. We shall survive.

And, it feels only seconds ago, when _—_

 _I love you_.

Such simple, daft words which pulled at her heart; crushed her lungs; and, suddenly, the whole world made perfect sense.

And to think of any other reality, to think of any other life, she cannot. The very idea, the possibility, Zelda would rather die.

Because to lie in Impa’s arms, and for Impa to sleep beside her, so at peace and beautiful. This is all Zelda has ever wanted in her life.

For the first time, Zelda realises, her heart racing a mile a minute

_I am happy._

Zelda feels warm, safe, as she reaches to kiss her. It doesn’t take much for Impa to stir, and she reacts positively, reaching out for Zelda and pulling her closer. Still lip locked, Zelda practically melts, a shudder running up and down her spine as Impa’s hands smooth down her beck, her waist. A gorgeous, and very welcome sensation begins to ache in Zelda’s core. Pulse frantic, she shifts her position slightly, straddling Impa’s hips, palms pressed to her breasts while she allows Impa to massage her clit.

The Sheikah is still half-asleep, but very aware of what is going on. She smiles lazily, looking up at Zelda, her incredible curvaceous figure, and Impa’s eyes immediately drop to her breasts; how they bounce slightly every time Zelda moves or twitches as ecstasy begins to rise. Zelda exhales heavily, closing her eyes as she sinks further into Impa’s amazing touch. She knocks her head back slightly, moaning, and to watch her ride it out, to see just how much she enjoys this _—_ Impa is beginning to feel _very_ awake now.

She raises herself into a sort of sitting position, and her finger effortlessly slips inside Zelda. Gasping, Zelda wraps her arms around her, clinging tight, as Impa slips in another. Zelda whines when Impa only make it all the more unbearable. As soon as the pad of thumb works its magic on her clit, Zelda can’t stay quiet for long.

In the privacy of Impa’s home, the princess need not worry about being heard anyway.

Holding onto Impa desperately she exclaims loud, her hair falling over her face as she tries her best not to come too quickly. But, she can’t help herself. Zelda shudders when she comes, a high-pitched cry breaking from her. Impa kisses her neck, her jawline, and continues, much to Zelda’s delight.

A rather dazed, yet satisfied smile reaches Zelda’s lips.

‘Good morning.’

In response, Impa grins, and relentlessly pleasures her until Zelda simply can’t take any more.

-

Princess Zelda has no intention of returning to the castle today. In fact, all she wants to do is very simple: stay in Kakariko Village with Impa. For a moment, she allows herself to think of a life in which she _could_ do this. Where they are free of advisors, guards, the whole show, and they can simply be with one another. In all honesty, Zelda can’t imagine having a life like that with anybody else.

Yet they both know it will never happen.

Zelda and Impa have been open about their feelings now, but what next? Either they keep their relationship secret _—_ which would be wise, but painful _—_ or, they be honest. The very idea of having to make that sort of decision is enough for Zelda to feel sick. Then again, Link and Mipha managed, and their union was frowned upon amongst many of the Zora. Perhaps Zelda can be happy, too.

Deciding not to worry about it for now, Zelda dresses and meets Impa downstairs. The back doors are open, leading onto the patio; the place where Zelda confessed her love for her. Zelda smiles, and can’t help but find the location as a whole very special to her. Kakariko has always held a spiritual presence; a place in which its people are in touch with nature, and their Gods. Zelda just never truly appreciated it as much as this.

Impa has her back faced to her, and is sharpening her blades outside. The morning sun almost makes her sparkle, and Zelda nearly slaps herself for being so _—_ _love drunk_. She has never felt so strongly for anybody before in her life, and if her parents ever knew their daughter would fall in love with a woman, well _—_ Zelda snorts. It’s none of their business, really. This is who she wants, and she is tired of making sacrifices.

Walking out to join Impa, Zelda wraps her arms around Impa’s middle, pressing her face between her shoulder blades. Impa acknowledges her with a low chuckle.

‘I can’t recall the last time you greeted me like this, Your Highness.’

‘Zelda,’ the princess murmurs into Impa’s clothes.

Impa lowers her blade, ‘Hm. I’m going to have to get used to that, aren’t I?’

‘Start now,’ Zelda suggests. ‘You never know. You might actually prefer it.’

Sheathing the knife, Impa turns to look at her, smiling warmly. ‘It’s a shame you have to go back.’

‘I’m trying not to think about that.’

‘You can return here whenever you like.’

‘I would _—_ ’ she sighs. ‘Let’s see. If I keep sneaking out to Kakariko every night, people will start wondering what I’m up to.’

‘Do you care?’

Zelda shrugs. ‘Probably not as much as I should.’

Of course Impa sympathises, and, last night, the two of them were too distracted to discuss any rationales of their relationship. They both know it’s going to be complicated, what with Zelda being a princess, and heir to the throne. It won’t be long until her coronation. Then again, she _is_ Queen-to-be. It is well within Zelda’s rights to change the rules a little, so long as the courts aren’t too opposed.

Zelda twitches a smile.

Oh, she dares them to be.

Impa doesn’t say anything, and Zelda wonders if the discussion is simply depressing her. It’s not as if they haven’t fought hard for each other. To now have to face the _real_ music, it is tricky not to fall down a spiral of gloom.

Fortunately, Impa has a talent for bouncing back quickly.

She steps inside and over to a bowl of papaya fruit, ‘You should eat before you go.’

‘Thank you.’

It’s quite cute having Impa feed her. It’s personal.

A glimpse of intimacy Zelda never thought she’d ever embrace.

While Impa readies Zelda’s breakfast, the princess surveys the room. She loves its wooden design, how the floorboard creaks with her every movement. A few old paintings of Hyrule field, the castle, and what may potentially be relatives cover some of the wall. Zelda takes a keen interest in the bookcase, filled to the brim with history books, particularly on the Sheikah tribe. She frowns, reaching for one in particular which catches her eyes.

The cover has faded. It’s so old, the handwriting inside has nearly disappeared.

Its spine cracks open as Zelda delicately examines its contents.

Not a second passes before she realises: this is a diary.

‘Your father gave that to me.’

Zelda looks up, brow raised. ‘When?’

‘Around the time we first met. Properly.’

How can Zelda forget? She smiles, ‘My father was fond of you, wasn’t he?’

‘If he was, I wasn’t aware,’ Impa replies. ‘You were always on his mind, though.’

Zelda grimaces. Impa decides not to talk about King Rhoam anymore. She steps over with the bowl of freshly cut papaya, and swaps it in exchange for the diary. While Zelda eats, Impa idly skims the first few pages.

Then, she smiles at her, ‘The woman I’m named after _—_ or, _alleged_ to be named after _—_ this is hers, from centuries ago.’

Zelda nearly chokes on her fruit. ‘How _old_ is that?’

‘I can’t imagine,’ Impa chuckles, ‘You are welcome to have it.’

‘It is fitting it stays with you,’ Zelda says, softly. ‘I noticed it isn’t written in Hylian, so I doubt I’d learn very much.’

Impa might have taken for granted that the diary is written in Sheikah. Not only that, but a very old version of the language. One very few Sheikah can understand to this day. ‘Maybe I can give you a few lessons. It won’t hurt to learn something new.’ She places the diary aside. She may have suggested that so they have more opportunities to share each other’s company, but, considering Zelda will be Queen soon, she might as well learn the other languages of her land. ‘I know you’re into this kind of stuff, anyway.’

‘What stuff is that?’ Zelda laughs, amused.

‘You always have your head stuck in some kind of book.’

‘Is that bad?’

Impa scrunches up her nose. ‘I prefer the pictures.’

Rolling her eyes, Zelda playfully slaps her arm. ‘Don’t tell me reading is too hard for you now.’

Impa only teases, but she certainly isn’t a scholar like Zelda. She recalls how this woman can read multiple books in one day, if given the chance. She wonders if Zelda dedicates her time reading so much still. Or, maybe her interests have expanded. Now that Zelda is in touch with her abilities, perhaps she no longer has to depend on the writings of others.

So much has changed, though.

It wouldn’t be so surprising if Zelda has neglected her hobbies, after all.

Zelda jumps slightly when there’s a knock at the door.

‘Expecting someone?’ she asks.

Impa shakes her head. Aware of the fact she _is_ , indeed, with the princess, Impa remains alert as she proceeds to open the door.

To her relief, it isn’t an enemy, but _—_

‘Lady Urbosa?’

The last time a Gerudo visited Kakariko Village was a very long time ago. Impa has a feeling Urbosa isn’t here for her, but wonders how on earth she knew Zelda would be here. At the mention of her guardian’s name, Zelda immediately rushes for the door, almost knocking Impa out of the way.

Immediately the two embrace, and Urbosa laughs lowly, always welcoming Zelda’s affections.

‘You’re here!’ Zelda beams. They release each other. ‘I assume somebody told you of my whereabouts at the castle?’

‘They did. I was surprised, I must say, but, then again _—_ ’ she shrugs, looking at Impa with a hint of curiosity. ‘ _—_ it made sense. Forgive my intrusion, but I wanted to let you know, Zelda, in person about the news.’

News? Impa raises a brow. She steps aside as Zelda welcomes Urbosa into Impa’s home.

‘I trust all is well?’ Zelda asks.

‘You needn’t fret, little bird,’ Urbosa smiles. ‘We have an heir. My sister gave birth last night. A healthy vai, already strong enough to break bone,’ she laughs warmly. ‘I had hoped you would perhaps attend the celebration of this little one?’

Zelda wouldn’t miss it for the world. ‘Of course. I’m so happy for you, Urbosa. I know your sister has been trying.’ She looks at a vacant-looking Impa. ‘You may not be aware of this, but chieftains cannot breed in Gerudo culture. Urbosa has been keeping me informed, so _—_ ’ she sighs, ‘ _—_ _yes_ , this is great news!’

‘I hear Link and his princess are to be wed soon. Perhaps I shall meet you both there?’

‘You can’t stay?’ Zelda asks.

‘I am afraid not. Besides, my presence isn’t needed here. Not anymore,’ Urbosa smiles, and Impa wonders what she means by that. ‘When you find the time, Zelda, please visit Gerudo Town. We see you as our own, and you have been dearly missed.’

‘You’ll let me know when you’ll be celebrating, won’t you?’

‘Of course.’ Urbosa glances at Impa, ‘The invitation naturally extends to you as well. Should you fancy the trip.’

Before Impa can confirm, Urbosa turns and opens the door.

‘Take care, princess, and keep an eye on this one,’ she gestures to Impa, ‘I don’t want her getting you into any trouble.’

There’s a joke in there somewhere, clearly. Zelda giggles, throwing Impa an amused look.

‘Good bye, Zelda.’

‘Farewell,’ and, quietly, she closes the door after the Gerudo chief.

Impa folds her arms, frowning. ‘What does she think I do for a living? Get _you_ into trouble? That’s rich.’

Grinning ear-to-ear, Zelda throws herself into Impa’s arms, and cuddles her tight.

‘I wouldn’t think too hard about it. I’d hate for you to hurt yourself.’

‘Tsk,’ Impa returns her embrace, and can’t help but smile too. ‘You’ve got some cheek, Zelda.’

-

_An hour after Calamity Ganon’s defeat, and still stained in the blood of her enemy, the princess has only minutes to breathe before she will be expected to make a speech. To rejoice in their victory. To thank everybody for giving their lives, that it **was** all worth it in the end. But, all she can imagine doing, all she can think of, is weeping her apologies. Because, as much as she did help win this war, she was inevitably too late. The damage is permanent, nobody shall forget that._

_Locked in the privacy of one of the waiting rooms, she goes over in her mind what to say. It’s truly madness. Moments ago she was ensuring the death of the greatest threat on earth. Now, she’s struggling what to say to her own people. In a sense, Zelda wishes she was battling Ganon again. At least she could handle that. At least she wasn’t alone when she did that._

_The door opens abruptly. Zelda whips around, ready to discipline whoever rudely entered._

_The moment she recognises Impa, that anger fades._

_‘You should rest,’ Zelda says, turning away. ‘You fought valiantly, Lady Impa. It’s time to retire now.’_

_‘Not until you do, princess,’ Impa replies honestly. ‘I wondered if you needed some help?’_

_Zelda sighs, long and tired. ‘Of course you did.’_

_‘Ma’am?’_

_‘Even when you’re broken and bloody,’ she faces Impa again, expression softening. ‘You **still** worry about my wellbeing. Honestly, Impa, you should think about yourself for once.’_

_‘That’s rich, coming from you.’_

_‘Huh,’ Zelda smirks. It’s sad. Lonely. ‘It may sound crude, but, a part of me truly enjoyed fighting by your side. I thought the day would never come.’_

_Impa shrugs. ‘I did. I believed in you every step of the way, Your Highness. Thank God you proved me right, otherwise I would have looked a bit stupid.’ She manages to make Zelda laugh a little, and that’s something. That’s everything. ‘Please, Your Highness, you’ve done your bit. Say what needs to be said. And it is **you** who should retire.’_

_Closing the distance between them, Zelda begins to realise that what needs to be said is very little. Just a thank you. A sign of gratitude. And then, to gracefully step aside._

_‘Thank you, Impa. For believing in me.’_

_At least someone did._

_Zelda thinks,_ thank Hylia, thank the Goddess’s mercy for placing me in your care _._

_‘You would have done the same for me.’_

_But Zelda cannot imagine Impa struggling. She can’t imagine her losing a fight. She can’t imagine Impa being vulnerable, and being crushed by the weight of her own emotions. Not Impa. Somebody so strong, and wonderful and everything Zelda should have been._

_The princess reaches up and dusts a little dirt from Impa’s navy top._

_‘For a moment back there,’ she whispers, ‘I thought we were going to die.’_

_Impa catches Zelda’s hand. ‘As did I, Your Highness. I think we all felt that way.’ Subconsciously, they intertwine their fingers, and squeeze. Zelda holds her gaze, appreciating the warmth of her eyes, and Zelda inhales slowly, finding the ability to be calm again._

_The war is over._

_‘I couldn’t have survived. Not without you.’_

_‘Oh, princess,’ Impa twitches a smile, ‘You break my heart, you know.’_

_Zelda flushes. She comes closer, and, gradually, brings her arms around Impa’s bruised body. They embrace, and it’s gentle; tender. Zelda closes her eyes, and breathes against her. They remain locked like this for a while, and Zelda wishes it could be hours. Every day. Every waking moment. This is all she truly wants. But this kind of joy is simply not written for them._

_It is almost impossible not to cry. Zelda is very much in touch with her emotions anyway, and perhaps it’s the shock of everything beginning to sink in. She sniffs, pulling away briefly, trying to breathe. Trying to find her voice; herself. Without a word, Impa wipes Zelda’s cheeks, and neither have to say anything. They both know. They both understand._

_Nobody has to know all they suffered._

_‘For me, don’t come back. Not for a few months, anyway. You deserve time away.’_

_Zelda kisses her lips. Once. An abrupt, almost delicate movement, leaving Impa stunned in place._

_‘And don’t disobey my command,’ she whispers, lips still hovering over hers._

_They pause, and Zelda takes a second just to—calm, to remember who she is; and, who she isn’t._

_A farewell is not shared. All too soon, Zelda steps away, and then walks past her loyal companion. She doesn’t look back once, not even a second to change her mind; as soon as the door shuts closed behind her, Impa can hear the crowds cheering, thrilled for their princess to speak._

_Before Zelda even begins, Impa is gone._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story has a good few more chapters, as Urbosa will be featuring more now. I suspect she will be sharing a few convos with Impa.
> 
> Many thanks for reading!
> 
> P.S. Hope you don't mind my headcanon regarding Gerudo chiefs (at least for this timeline).


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter 11: Urbosa’s Queen**

* * *

For the sake of not arousing suspicion, Zelda decides it is best if they schedule their time together carefully. Although Impa remains the princess’s right hand, that doesn’t necessarily mean she has to constantly be by her side. In fact, what with Zelda’s coronation drawing ever nearer, a lot of Impa’s work is not every domestic. Considering the late king had no choice but to neglect his alliances with neighbouring countries _—_ the war _was_ quite distracting, after all _—_ Zelda has to pick up the pieces.

Thankfully her royal advisor is a much better speaker than Zelda, and she has a charming air about her which both men and women enjoy. Since the war, Impa hasn’t actually been busier, and that evening they shared in Kakariko Village was clearly a one-off. A magical, yet dangerous encounter which the two cannot allow themselves to dream about again. Perhaps it’s just as well Impa is absent most of the time, because there will be a point in her life where Zelda can no longer depend on her.

Or, at least, depend on her as she does now. Zelda hasn’t truly considered their future; whether she _will_ address the courts, and reveal what she wants. But even the idea of doing that is quite terrifying. Zelda had won the war, but she was late, and she required plenty of help to get that far. The courts won’t forget that, and what with her father dead, they still look at her as some little girl.

Even though she will be queen, that doesn’t necessarily mean she can have everything she wants.

There is a risk that, if Zelda were to make her affections for Impa clear, she could be taken away from her. The idea is enough to send shockwaves through her heart. Zelda scrunches her eyes shut, erasing the thought. She knows she is avoiding the matter at hand, she knows she is potentially being a coward, but her status is still so vulnerable. If Zelda makes one wrong decision, it is only a question of just how far her people will go to ensure their princess does as she is told.

It is just as well Lady Urbosa wrote to her within a couple days, announcing the celebration of her heiress. Zelda desperately requires her mentor’s advice. They haven’t spoken in days, and Zelda isn’t even if sure if Urbosa _approves_ of the match, herself. Although she rules a land dominated by women, that doesn’t mean Urbosa shares the same affections for women as Zelda does.

She dresses not too formally, in her signature colour: blue. Whilst Zelda’s maid begins work on her hair, the princess suddenly has the urge to cut it. She’s always had long hair her entire life, and the possibility of shortening the length appeals to her. So, Zelda asks for that to be done.

It doesn’t take too long. The cut actually frames her face better; she looks _older_ , in a sense. More mature. Wiser. Her eyes appear darker, and Zelda has actually never seen herself this way before. It is a striking look, and one she is happy with. Thanking the maid, Zelda finishes dressing, and, as is customary with the gerudo, she carries a scimitar at her hip. Glancing at the mirror, Zelda barely gives herself two seconds to appreciate her new appearance, before leaving the room.

As requested, Lady Impa waits for Zelda outside, ready to escort her to Gerudo Town. She widens her eyes slightly when she sees what Zelda has done to her hair. Zelda doesn’t ask for an opinion, but there’s something in Impa’s gaze which tells her _it’s been approved_. Smiling a little, Zelda descends the staircase, her royal advisor following. To the staff, there is nothing unsuspecting, and Zelda is pleased that the two manage to keep things under wraps, but how long for, she dare not entertain.

They will ride to the desert, and, if anything, it’s an opportunity to have time alone. However, throughout the journey, neither say a word; perhaps nothing needs to be said. Zelda wondered if Impa might ask her about her appearance, but the sheikah warrior doesn’t seem very fussed about it. Or, maybe she just doesn’t believe it is within her rights to _ask_. If it’s what the princess wants, then it’s what she wants too.

Of course there is a real thrill to ride alongside her protector. Zelda’s smile broadens as she catches Impa’s gaze, and there’s something almost rebellious in her look; all that innocence and insecurity Impa witnessed from the first day they met, it seems to be slowly eradicating. It is only proof to the sheikah that Zelda is, indeed, growing up. No longer shackled by the war, she is now finally able to bloom.

The proud hilltops which surround Hyrule provide a spirited view of the Hebra Mountains as well as Gerudo Town itself. Zelda sighs happily, content, admiring the vast colours and life which surrounds her, and it’s a rare moment in which she is _happy_ to be a princess of a place so gorgeous. So diverse in its culture, and so deep in its faith. Sometimes, it doesn’t surprise Zelda that they won.

On the edge of a view, Zelda stops momentarily. Impa follows suit, a little confused.

Then it occurs to her that Zelda just wanted to appreciate the sight before them.

Naturally there is only one sight in particular which Impa chooses to admire. Zelda, fortunately, is too distracted to realise the sheikah is gazing almost dreamily at her, until the princess turns to look at her. Not so subtly, Impa immediately looks away, suddenly really fascinated in a nearby tree.

Zelda rolls her eyes at Impa’s rather ridiculous attempt.

Yet a warm smile reaches her lips. ‘What do you think?’

Impa frowns, meeting Zelda’s gaze. ‘About what, Your Highness?’

‘This.’

Everywhere. The kingdom.

The sight before them.

Sighing, Impa gives the view around them one quick inspection.

‘It’s nice.’

‘Are you proud of it?’ Zelda asks, sincere.

‘With all due respect, it isn’t my land to be proud of.’

‘And what if it was?’

Impa swallows, not sure if she feels comfortable with where this conversation is going. ‘I suppose I haven’t really considered that possibility, for many reasons.’ She drops her gaze for a second, aware of the fact Zelda is watching her intently now. ‘I serve you, not the people. I thought that was clear.’

‘Oh, it is,’ Zelda breathes. A sadness shadows her face, almost of defeat. Impa narrows her brows, wondering exactly what Zelda wanted her to say. Because what Zelda is _asking_ Impa to admit to is _treason_ , surely. The two have been so lost in each other, they haven’t really considered the repercussions. ‘I have been thinking about Link a lot lately _—_ ’ something sharp digs deep into Impa’s heart, but before she can speak, Zelda continues, ‘ _—_ how he managed to hold onto his princess.’

Is Impa being _accused_? The sheikah wisely stays silent, but she can’t help but feel bruised.

‘But, it’s different for him,’ Zelda remedies the wound. ‘I didn’t realise how different I am in the scheme of things.’ She laughs wryly, ‘God help me, I have even considered offering Lady Mipha the _—_ ’ Zelda stops, amazed she is about to truly admit it. _The throne_. ‘I must do what is expected of me, though. What my father wants.’

There is little Impa can do or say to comfort Zelda, because she certainly shares these sentiments. However, Impa doesn’t want to think that far ahead yet. A part of her knows that this _—_ whatever they have _—_ it cannot survive. The courts will simply forbid it, and it is simply _unheard_ of for a hylian princess or prince to marry into the sheikah. The sheikah have always _served_ the royal family.

Whether or not there have been consorts of the sheikah in the past remains to be seen. But, they both know this can’t go public, even if they have the support of their friends. Zelda winces, and rides on. She doesn’t look at her advisor once during the remainder of their travels, let alone speak to her.

The deserts aren’t too warm this afternoon. Every now again, the two are confronted by a small group of Lizalfos, but it’s easy work for Impa.

Besides, it distracts her from the conversation Zelda initiated earlier. She wonders if this is the beginning of the end. They had their brief period together _—_ and it _was_ brief. Only an evening, and since then, due to work, the two have been more apart. Perhaps, she thinks, it was never meant to be. Maybe they should cut the cord now, and relieve each other from the inevitable agony.

Except it already _is_ agony. They miss each other. They miss each other too much. Their silence is enough to make Zelda _weep_. She wishes Impa would talk to her, tell her what she’s feeling; that she still wants this, or maybe Zelda is just _another one_ to her. Zelda knows there have been others before her, and that Impa can be quite nonchalant when it comes to love and sex. Is that what Zelda is? _Just another one?_ That’s when she starts going down the rabbit hole, wondering if Impa is already losing interest.

She nearly slaps herself for being so selfish. Impa wouldn’t do that to her, and she most certainly wouldn’t mess Zelda around like that. Besides, their time apart surely proved how devoted Impa is to her. Maybe she should just stop thinking about it. Thinking about _her_ , what they are, what future they cannot share together. Will it only be a matter of time when they will be sharing a bed with somebody else?

As they near the entrance to Gerudo Town, Impa waits for Zelda to enter first, but as Zelda passes, she has to fight the urge to _kiss_ her. Words are useless, and it’s probably the only way Zelda can express just how much she wants this is through action. Yet, duty calls, and Zelda endures a sudden panic of self-doubt. She wants to know Impa’s thoughts; wants to know Impa better than she knows herself; wants all their hidden thoughts to be face up on the table, their lives exposed to one another.

If only Zelda knew Impa feels the exact same way. Whether that will become clear to them is another question entirely. As Zelda walks past, Impa is gifted with the soft scent of her perfume, her gentle presence, and wild heart. This sort of tension _—_ Impa is very much familiar with it, and whenever this sort of tension arises, she finds it easier to simply walk away. Not with Zelda, though, and perhaps it is more than duty. Perhaps this a devotion she never really thought she was capable of.

When the princess enters Gerudo Town, the guards immediately welcome her warmly, and inform her that Lady Urbosa is in the throne room. Impa, a renowned warrior with the gerudo, is given a silent nod of acknowledgement. The sheikah casts her gaze up, the sun having nearly set, and the stars and moon slowly appearing. The lights in the town are warming, colours of red and gold decorating the palace, which, Impa imagines, is associated with the birth of the chief-to-be.

Entering the throne room, Impa waits near the doorway with the guards, and watches Zelda hurry to Urbosa. From where she stands, Impa can see the amount of glee and happiness the princess endures, just to be seen, to be held by the elder gerudo. Impa has never seen anybody as a father or mother figure before. Once, King Rhoam had been _open_ with Impa, expressing his grief for his daughter, and it was moments like that in which Impa wondered about father figures, and whether Rhoam _was_ one.

But, really, Rhoam was just a king to Impa. Somebody she served and was loyal to.

Things weren’t as transparent with his daughter, once Rhoam placed Zelda in Impa’s protection.

In fact, to begin with, their manner towards one another was rocky. Zelda was particularly dismissive of Impa, her presence an insult. Of course Rhoam only appointed Impa to stay by Zelda’s side because Zelda simply can’t protect herself. Over time, however, that dynamic transformed into deep respect, and a fondness neither had truly held for anybody else before. Their loyalty was unquestionable.

It was only a matter of time until these confused feelings developed into something sincere.

As they have now.

Impa is distracted from her thoughts when Zelda calls her name.

A baby, absolutely tiny, is nestled comfortably in Zelda’s arms. Impa smiles a little, and, at Zelda’s command, she steps over, admiring the little bundle sleeping peacefully. Zelda says something on the lines of “isn’t she adorable?” but Impa, to be perfectly honest, is a little nervous around babies.

She _likes_ them, sure, however Impa is much better with the older version of people.

‘Would you like to hold her?’

That doesn’t come from Urbosa, but somebody who shares similar features to the woman. This gerudo has shorter hair, smaller nose, and she’s slightly taller than her sister. Impa, stunned by the request, stutters rather uselessly, much to Urbosa’s amusement. ‘I am honoured, thank you, but I _—_ ’

‘So long as you hold her head, you’re fine.’

‘I _—_ ’

There is little point in fighting it. Impa is silenced when Zelda carefully passes the baby to her. Stiffening, Impa has never concentrated so hard as she does her best to carry the baby, keeping the baby’s head balanced as advised. To Impa’s surprise (and relief), the baby doesn’t wake up, and seems to be even more relaxed in Impa’s hold.

‘See?’ Urbosa says, smirking. ‘Not so scary after all.’

No. No, it’s not scary.

Zelda glances at Impa, a warmth embracing her. Impa seems to have calmed down slightly, almost fascinated in the baby. She wears a delicate, unusual smile; one of both surprise and contentment. Zelda can’t believe how much this look actually suits Impa, and thinks, _what about motherhood?_ Because being a mother, Zelda has to admit, would suit Impa very much. The two have never actually discussed it but seeing Impa now, like this, Zelda begins to both panic and, somehow, fall in love even more.

Unfortunately for Zelda, Impa realises she is being watched closely by her.

‘We have considered the name Tasale,’ Urbosa says, apparently not aware of Zelda’s change in mood. ‘After our late grandmother.’

‘A beautiful name,’ Zelda says.

Impa clears her throat, and decides it best to return the baby to her mother. While Zelda and Urbosa discuss the customs of new chiefs, Impa decides to mind her own business as usual. It isn’t a place for a royal advisor to eavesdrop on more personal conversations. Silently, she remains by Zelda’s side, only more puzzled after what just occurred. Zelda is becoming increasingly difficult to read.

Then the celebrations begin. To Impa’s delight, there is _plenty_ of booze to go around, and to be honest she needs something to take off the edge. Zelda has plenty to do. Many of the gerudo surround her and Urbosa, the sleeping baby having being sent to bed. Zelda could not be more at home, comfortable around those she learnt so much from _—_ a parallel with Link and the zora people.

Nearby, a few gerudo women play the sitar, only adding to the incredible atmosphere. While in conversation, Zelda, every now and again, searches for her royal advisor. Impa, knowing her place, hasn’t moved from the same spot. She is within view, and it is transparent to anybody passing whom she serves, represents and protects. Sighing, Zelda has to pull herself back into the discussion.

Of course she forgets this is the gerudo. A town of women, and, a town of women that is most hospitable to its guests. Admittedly, Zelda does enjoy the attention, and she wouldn’t have thought it would bother her if Impa were to receive it as well. Because, honestly, Impa _is_ an attractive young woman, not to mention her culture is fascinating, making her stand out amongst the women present.

She catches sight of a gerudo woman offering Impa a drink. Then her view is blocked. _Don’t look._ Zelda shouldn’t worry in the first place. It’s just a drink, and a drink is harmless and, to be fair, Zelda is happy that her advisor is being treated as an equal here. _It’s just a drink_. When she catches sight of Impa again, the other woman is still present, talking to her, and Zelda inhales sharply, tearing her gaze away.

Perhaps the gerudo is only asking what Impa’s role involves, or she could be asking about Princess Zelda, or, more likely, she just wants attention from this open-minded, fetching woman. _Who’s mine_ , Zelda thinks helplessly. _She’s mine._ Had she not made that clear the other night in Kakariko Village? Had she not told Impa how much she loved her, _that she wants her_ , and had Impa not confessed the same?

When she catches sight of Impa again, it’s the first time Impa has _kind of_ neglected her responsibilities. Her posture has changed. She appears more casual, there’s almost a flirtatious streak in her mannerisms, and Zelda wonders if she is thinking too deeply into this. Maybe Impa is just _talking_ to _another woman_ , and she seems to be _enjoying_ it. Zelda’s eyes flash to the gerudo speaking with Impa.

‘Little bird?’

Catching her breath, Zelda turns to Urbosa, whom looks concerned.

‘Are you all right? What’s on your mind?’ Zelda isn’t capable of subtlety around Urbosa, and the chief follows Zelda’s line of gaze. ‘Ah.’ Urbosa straightens, resting a hand on her hip. ‘It is always wonderful, is it not, when our friends get along? Is that not what we are pursuing as one, little bird?’

Zelda swallows hard. Clenches her fists. ‘Of course.’

‘Don’t worry, princess. We rarely have sheikah women enter our lands, so it is only natural that your young warrior will turn some heads. She has been doing so since she arrived.’ That only makes Zelda feel worse. ‘Have faith. She is quite striking. And, perhaps, she might even enjoy the attention.’

 _But that’s what I don’t want!_ In all fairness, Urbosa doesn’t know the precise details of their relationship, and Zelda isn’t sure if she’s ready to be entirely honest. Gently, Urbosa brushes Zelda’s cheek with the back of her hand. Zelda looks up at her, and there is sympathy in Urbosa’s warm eyes.

‘My dear one, you are so like your mother.’

Zelda doesn’t think too deeply into Urbosa’s words. The princess is holding onto her glass so tightly, it’s remarkable it hasn’t shattered in her grip. She feels sick, insecure; terrified that if she looks at Impa again, she’ll be in the arms of another woman, and maybe this other woman is better looking than Zelda; maybe the gerudo are more Impa’s type than some useless, pathetic princess of nothing.

It is hideous, this jealousy.

Zelda feels utterly ashamed for it, but she can’t _stop_.

It makes her want to cry, knowing, one day, she may have to let Impa go. May have to watch her be with other women, and Zelda endures a rage bubbling deep in her belly. She wants to claw at this _other woman_ , whom Impa _is_ enjoying the company of. Zelda holds her breath when another gerudo comes over, equally as interested in Impa.

Zelda looks away sharply

She tries her best to divulge in conversation. Of course most subjects surround the new baby and, at times, Zelda manages to keep her eyes off of Impa. Her advisor has not moved from her place, keeping Zelda in sight at all times, but Zelda begins to wonder if Impa _cares_ any more if anything were to happen to her.

More out of bitterness, Zelda chooses to disappear without informing her advisor.

If anything, it’s a relief to no longer endure the torture. Heavy on her feet, Zelda storms out of the town, and out of the gates. The night is cold, and she inhales the sharp air. Shivering, Zelda folds her arms, trying her best to be rational. Maybe she is being ridiculous, but Zelda can’t deny how she feels.

Zelda is even more puzzled about everything when Impa comes out to join her.

When Zelda looks at her, gaze hard, she realises Impa is concerned.

‘Are you all right? You suddenly left.’

Zelda bites down on her tongue.

‘Your Highness?’

‘I’m surprised you noticed,’ Zelda can’t help herself, and it’s now out. She walks past Impa, aware of the poor sheikah’s confusion.

Impa reaches for the princess, grabbing her wrist. ‘Why would I _not_ notice?’

‘You had plenty of distractions,’ Zelda bites at her. She glares at her, hating herself for all the nasty things she wants to say. But, it’s all so simple really. If Zelda finds it in herself to ignore her own insecurities, it’s _obvious_ what she wants to say, _what she truly wants_. ‘Personally, I don’t blame the women. It’s not as if I wasn’t the same once.’

‘What _are_ you talking about?’

Zelda tenses her jaw. ‘I saw you. You enjoyed the attention the gerudo women were giving you.’

Then Impa laughs, much to Zelda’s irritation. ‘That’s what this is about?’ She rolls her eyes. ‘Your Highness, it was _just_ conversation _—_ ’

‘Zelda.’ The princess pauses, pinching the bridge of her nose. She yanks her arm from Impa’s grip. Holds her breath, ‘My name is **_Zelda_** , Impa. How _many times_ do I have to tell you? How many times _—_? Why do you make this so _impossible_ for me?’ She shudders, her anger violent and desperate. ‘Why won’t you call me by my _name_? Or, is that what I am to you? _Just_ a princess? Have I always been that way _—_?’ Zelda scoffs, ‘Coming to you, in Kakariko, I actually thought that would make a difference.’

‘You’re giving _me_ shit for simply being polite, whereas _you_ were the one who sent me away, just so you could spend some one-to-one with somebody else? I can call you Zelda, if that’s what you wish, but don’t pretend that me calling you by your name changes aught. Don’t act like an idiot. You know what has to happen.’

‘Oh, fuck off! What do _you_ know about what _I_ have to do? What _I_ have to live with? You can go and be with whoever you please, whereas I _—_ ’

‘Don’t swear at me,’ Impa growls. ‘Would you rather I be honest, or lie to you?’

‘I am your queen, I can talk to you however I choose.’

‘Are you?’ Impa challenges, shaking her head. ‘You want to me to perceive you not as a monarch, but a person like me. And yet, you come out with that. It’s almost as if you haven’t the slightest idea what you want.’

Zelda has started to cry. She doesn’t know if it’s out of anger or sadness or both.

Impa is devastated by the sight.

‘I _do_ know,’ her voice breaks. ‘But I can’t _—_ ’ _I can’t have it. I can’t have **you**. And now I’ve ruined everything_. ‘Seeing you with somebody else is too much to bear. Knowing that, one day, you _will_ be with somebody else, I can’t _take it_ , Impa. I know I’m selfish. I know I’m a _bitch_ , but sometimes I struggle to convey how much I _—_ ’ _want you? Need you?_ ‘Why am I scared all the time?’

Softening her expression, Impa manages to calm down. She is still hurt by some of things Zelda said, but at least Zelda is trying to reason with her now. Impa steps over, and wonders whether _she_ should be the one leaving. Maybe this is the right time for her to step aside, and let fate takes its course.

‘Let me help you. That _is_ why I am here.’

‘It isn’t just your help I want,’ Zelda roughly wipes her eyes dry. ‘I love you. I love you so much, and it’s killing me.’

Even though she has heard Zelda confess her love before, she hasn’t like this.

And Impa isn’t sure if she will ever recover.

‘I would give _everything_ ,’ Zelda admits, her tears glistening in the moonlight.

The crown, her powers, her privileges, her entire life, just so she can share her years with this one woman. Zelda has shocked them both, because, _yes_ , she would give it all up. If she could. If she _could_. She would lose everything, _for her_. It is stupid, reckless, terrifying and Impa is speechless as Zelda, hot on her heel, returns inside the town, not once looking back, not once regretting her words.

Absolutely drained and still recovering from the wounds Zelda inflicted upon her, Impa sits in the sand, hugging her knees and feeling sore. That conversation was honestly unexpected, but maybe it was required. She truly hates arguing with Zelda, and the two share quite a defensive nature about them. Both equally as stubborn, although, admittedly, Zelda’s words cut deep. She knows how to make a lover bleed.

Dragging a hand through her hair, Impa’s heart begins to swell. She _does_ sympathise with Zelda’s complicated situation, but she could do without the accusations. Impa may not appear it, but she, too, can be sensitive.

‘Get this down you.’

Impa opens her eyes, and looks up to find Urbosa passing her a bottle of booze.

Slowly, Impa accepts.

‘Thanks.’

Then, to her surprise, Urbosa sits next to her, uncorking her own bottle. She takes a generous swig, and the two are silent for a while. Impa narrows her brows, feeling slightly awkward and uncertain if Urbosa is going to discipline her. The gerudo chief is very close to Zelda, so it would only be natural of her to defend Zelda.

Not that she needs to.

From what Impa experienced, it’s _she_ who needs the protection.

‘There is nothing quite like it, is there? To be loved by royalty.’ Impa widens her eyes, startled. Urbosa laughs warmly. ‘Don’t look so surprised, young warrior. I know. I have been watching you both. Besides, the princess speaks of you highly. She holds a great deal of admiration for you.’ Urbosa raises a brow at Impa. ‘And so she should. You _have_ kept her safe all these years.’

Impa decides to drink instead of talk.

What exactly has Zelda said to Urbosa?

‘Her mother, a darling woman, she had a big heart. So big, it eventually killed her. I had never met a woman with so much love to give.’ Impa blinks, looking at Urbosa. The chief stares ahead, focussed as ever, but there’s a hint of fragility in her voice. A pain, oozing through. ‘A woman who suffered. She taught me a great many things, especially what it means to rule. I will never forget her.’

Why is Urbosa talking about Zelda’s mother?

Impa says, ‘I heard the stories about her.’

‘Hm. I can only imagine how those stories went. A devoted wife, so beautiful all the world fell in love with her.’ She smiles, and it’s sad; longing. ‘It breaks my heart, having to watch her daughter grow. Zelda looks so like her mother now, almost identical. Only today did I realise, they share more than physical qualities.’

Urbosa inhales.

‘It came to a point, when I had to say no. And, every day, I regret my decision.’

Then, gradually, it sinks in.

What Urbosa is trying to tell Impa.

‘Royal life was not for me. It never was. I couldn’t handle the idea of having servants following me, to rule a kingdom which, strictly speaking, is not my own. I had my people, my own culture; there was no possible way in which I could abandon everything I hold dear, and live a life so unfit for me. To be caged in. Except, I just never expected her to _beg_.’

Impa’s heart catches.

‘I suppose you’re wondering why I’m telling you all of this. It’s evident how Zelda feels for you, but, in the end, it is your decision. Should you wish to strip yourself from your own culture, your history, everything that you are. Or, keep everything, except her. I wonder, what _would_ you choose?’

The question is rhetorical. Not to be answered yet.

‘If anybody were to hurt Zelda, I would destroy them. However, I find myself empathising with you, and so, I suppose I would let you get away with it this once. As long as you _make_ that decision, and don’t change your mind. You know as well as I that it can’t keep going on like this.’

As Urbosa raises her bottle, she _clinks_ it with Impa’s.

‘Fear not. I know you Shadow Folk think too deeply. The night is still young, and there is still time.’


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter 12: Wretched**

* * *

Despite Lady Urbosa’s wisdom, the situation could not be more complicated. A part of Impa has already decided, and, in all honesty, she is disappointed in herself for her choice. _If_ she even has one. Urbosa struck a chord, relating to Impa her story about Zelda’s mother; the fact she regretted not choosing the Queen of Hyrule, and, instead, clung to her traditions and culture; everything that made Urbosa herself. There is nothing wrong with that. The sheikah are just as proud of their heritage as the gerudo are, but with that pride, necessary sacrifices have to be made.

In a deliberate fashion Impa chooses to avoid further conversation with any gerudo, just in case Zelda were to witness it and lose her temper even more. However, upon returning into the town, Zelda either purposely doesn’t acknowledge her advisor, or she is putting on a front to everybody witnessing. Impa hopes it’s the latter, but she doubts it. Zelda has managed to busy herself with a crowd of intrigued and fascinated women, so it’s a reasonable excuse for her to ignore what just occurred.

Perhaps it’s for the best. Maybe a little distance shall help.

But, Impa feels _bruised_. The argument they had, it has not been resolved. In fact, Impa was barely able to give her side of things. It was all what Zelda wanted, how Zelda felt; not once did Zelda even stop to _listen_ , and Impa is beginning to grow impatient with this one-sidedness. Zelda wants Impa to see her as not a princess or god, but a normal person. Somebody who is her equal. Somebody who, too, has struggled with life and is only trying to make the best out of it.

Zelda is not just somebody, though.

As much as she tries to deny it at times, she _is_ a princess and, worse, she _is_ a god.

In contrast, Impa is a mere mortal, without a rupee to spare. There is nothing remarkable about her, besides the fact she is exceptional in battle. Impa doesn’t share her older sister’s smarts, nor the spirituality her parents held _—_ according to Pura anyway. The rumour that she was named after the nanny whom took the princess into hiding is an amusing insult more than anything. They might share the same name and blood, but, aside from that, she wonders if it’s all a farce.

Of course the legends never speak ill of its heroes, so perhaps that’s why Impa finds her ancestors so inaccessible and difficult to relate to. She knows, for a fact, Zelda shares these sentiments. Zelda, too, is frustrated that all the legends before she _—_ they succeeded. They were gifted with divine power, and had no problems in times of war. It is one of many reasons why Zelda struggles so much with her self-esteem. Even to this day, she is still bitter about her delayed awakening, and Impa wonders if she will ever forgive herself.

After their row, it is hard not to feel sore. Impa only feels worse, what with Urbosa demanding she make a decision and to _stick_ with that decision. She has a feeling Urbosa already knows what Impa will choose, and it is a safe choice. Impa is simply not fit for royal life, not to mention her tribe have _struggled_ with the hylian royal family in the past. When they were adolescents, Purah did not think highly of them at the time, and there _is_ a reason why The Yiga Clan existed.

A revolt does not occur out of the blue.

Yet, potentially, Impa agreeing to that _way of life_ might strike reconciliation. Although the war was successful, Hyrule Kingdom still remains very much divided. It will only be a matter of time until another war breaks out between whichever tribes. People say the kingdom is now at peace. It never _was_ at peace! Hyrule Kingdom is renowned across the world to deal with the most conflict, the most wars. To say the very least, Zelda has a difficult job.

… but is that what Impa wants?

Is it what she _deserves_?

Is it even realistic?

Because, surely, it will only be a matter of time until somebody else comes along.

Somebody more suited. Somebody with intelligence, charisma, and a mental strength Impa simply _lacks_. Being with Zelda, Impa has never really been more aware of herself, and what she _doesn’t_ have. But, it’s always been that way, and, despite her efforts, it never changes. In a sense, it is their God’s will that the two of them have been placed into such straining positions, and there is nothing they can do about it.

Did Zelda _not_ seek Impa out, though?

Was it not Zelda who confessed first, who went out of her way to Kakariko Village, potentially destroying ties with another king’s country, _who risked all of that_ , just so Impa knew, with certainty, that all Zelda wanted was Impa? She thinks back to then. _The feeling_. Seeing Zelda there, in the doorway, her hair glowing in the sunset. A picture so divine, so otherworldly, _beyond_ anything Impa feels worthy of _touching_ , but she was there. Zelda was there. It was Zelda who chose her, and now the rest, _the fucking rest_ , is down to Impa.

Is it selfish of her to _walk away_?

Or, is it realistic?

More than anything, she wishes Purah were here. Then again, Purah wouldn’t be much help anyway; she would be just as confused as Impa, and, frankly, out of protection her older sister may suggest, _yes, Impa, you_ ** _should_** _leave her. Spare yourself and her any further pain, and **get out of there**_. Because running away is what they know best; running away is how they have survived; why they continue to breathe and enjoy life.

She recalls what Purah was like when Impa was only young. A couple of years before she decided to serve the royal family, Purah had made it transparent to Impa that she must _never_ be tied to one person. That, in the end, all she has is herself. The person she wants to be with might be the most wonderful human being on earth, but, one way or another, they _will_ let you down. However, if you are alone, then you cannot be hurt.

Gods know what Purah must think now, but that advice has always stuck with Impa. It’s one reason why she _is_ alone, why she doesn’t have friends. Throughout the war, she grew close to Link and Mipha, but she wouldn’t necessarily label them as her _friends_. Just loyal comrades. And it is easier to perceive the world in this way. Everything is much more structured; there’s less mess, and emotions are messy for sure.

Purah might suggest Impa should choose herself. As much as she is fond of the young princess, if Purah were in Impa’s shoes, she would have left weeks ago. But Impa isn’t Purah, and it’s about time she recognises that fact. This _is_ her life, and, just as Urbosa said, she _does_ have a choice. Urbosa did not choose her heart. Everything she held dear had to come first. And look at her now. Her people _adore_ her, and she is respected now more than ever. If she followed the queen, then all of this would be destroyed; Urbosa would have to change, to become somebody unrecognisable, and betray her people.

Yet although Impa is proud of her culture, she isn’t really a _part of it_. Not like Urbosa is. Impa is a warrior, who so happens to be sheikah. Urbosa is a gerudo, who so happens to love a dead queen. Not only that, Urbosa is _chief_ of her people, too. Impa, on the other hand, holds no authority over the sheikah. Not that there’s many of them left to rule over. The two situations are vastly different, which only puzzles Impa all the more.

The young sheikah is taken by mild surprise when she’s tapped on the shoulder. A gerudo, a good few inches taller than she, points to the centre of the area. Impa realises crowds are beginning to form, a couple of gerudo holding their scimitar, eyes thirsty. ‘It’s tradition,’ the gerudo says, ‘Considering you are a fellow vai, we wondered if you would be interested. When a new chief is born, at least one life must be taken.’

 _Naturally_ , Impa thinks to herself.

Then it occurs to her.

‘You want _me_ to participate?’

‘Unless you Shadow Folk are more cowardly than you let on.’

With that, the gerudo walks away, and towards the arena. The crowds have begun yelling out, inspiring the participants, and effortlessly creating a dangerous thrill to the atmosphere. This is no longer about the birth of a child. This is violence at its purest. Impa shouldn’t be all that surprised this is gerudo tradition, and as she follows the gerudo to join, she can’t help but grin. It has been a _long_ time since she has done anything like this.

Heads turn at the foreigner, but nobody complains. If anything, there is all the more support for the gerudo women to be victorious. Impa counts how many are present: nine, and she is the tenth. That’s a reasonable number. God only knows she has fought more. Stripping off her outer garment, Impa unsheathes her kodachi, her heart beginning to race. She spins it in her hand, and can hear the crowds chanting and shouting.

This is a game, but a fatal one.

At least one will die tonight.

Then she sees Zelda.

The princess does not demand Impa back down, or ask _what_ she is doing. Instead, Zelda just sort of _reclines_ , and Impa can’t tell if there’s betrayal or fear in those eyes. Zelda needn’t worry, though. If Impa is good at anything, it’s _this_. Besides, there’s something fun about proving to the gerudo their women aren’t the only ones efficient in battle.

‘Well, well,’ a voice purrs behind Impa. Urbosa smirks. ‘This _will_ be interesting.’

As the chief announces the participants’ names, Impa studies each of the women. How they stand. She tries to assume their strengths, their weaknesses, what style they shall adopt; whether they’re panicky or grounded. There is also the threat that, as the only non-gerudo, Impa may be grouped against, which would make sense.

The very _second_ Urbosa initiates the brawl, from the corner of Impa’s eyes she can see Zelda push to the front of the crowd, eyes wide and petrified. Impa stays in one place as two of the gerudo participants run straight for her. As soon as they’re mere inches away, Impa acts. And, from where Zelda stands, Impa is a blur.

She’s so fast even, most of the crowd struggles to keep an eye on her. Zelda clenches her jaw, wanting to look away, _she can’t watch_ _—_ what if Impa is hurt, what if Impa is _killed_? The very thought makes her sick, and she grimaces at Impa’s alleged lack of hesitancy as she homes in for the next kill. This is what she does. This is what she has done her entire life. This is all she _knows_ , and Zelda, after a while, realises, _I trust you._

_I trust you to survive._

( _I trust you with my life._ )

The ordeal doesn’t last longer than twenty minutes. By the end, Impa has a few cuts and bruises, but she is the only one left standing. The crowds have gone quiet, some gerudo have actually _left_ , they’re so insulted by the result. Of all things to happen, a _sheikah_ defeated them? And she made it look so _easy_ , too.

Corpses, especially belonging to their own, are not unusual for the gerudo.

This is not the first or last time they will have competitions like this.

Eventually, the crowds recover, impressed by the sheikah’s abilities and intense concentration. Her agility is remarkable, and, if anything, they are pleased to discover yet another female warrior of incredible skill.

Blood stained, and grinning, Impa, as a reward, is offered a bottle of booze. Urbosa says something, to which the crowds agree to, but Zelda can’t really hear her. She blinks, feeling light on her feet, watching Impa and wondering _is this the life you want?_ Is this the life Impa _wants_ , or what she thinks she _deserves_?

To bet on her own life every day.

And then, once the bodies are taken away, the celebrations resume as if nothing occurred.

With the blood splattered over her body, Impa only fits in with the gerudo all the more. The sheikah and gerudo are certainly alike in many ways, and after what they all just witnessed from Impa, Zelda wouldn’t be surprised if Impa would be welcomed back as one of them next time. Zelda wouldn’t blame them.

Anybody would be lucky to know such a woman.

‘Congratulations.’

Impa evidently stiffens at Zelda’s words. The two say nothing to each other for a short while. Zelda sighs, face illegible, as she admires Impa’s form, _and oh, she misses her body_ , and how the blood of the gerudo paints her as something exotic. Whilst the gerudo chatter around them, the two are only aware of each other, and an overwhelming, _heavy_ amount of emotions begins to push down on Zelda’s already breaking spine.

Looking at her now, after everything, it’s hard to breathe.

Zelda wants her. She wants her _back_ , but she also knows there’s little to no point. Maybe this is the start. Maybe this is when they both accept they want different things. That their lives are simply too far apart for them to be together, and Zelda nearly bursts into tears then and there. _But there is nobody else whom I want._ And there never will be another. The two will find a way, eventually, to move on, however Zelda can’t _—_

 _—breathe_.

She really _can’t_ breathe.

Why won’t Impa _say something_?

 _Please_ , Zelda internally begs _, speak._

_I am **dying** here._

Eventually Impa is merciful. ‘Thanks,’ her eyes are like fire, and Zelda is transfixed. ‘I wondered if you were going to stop me for a second back there.’

‘I nearly considered it.’ They both smile, and it’s weak; there’s a joke in there somewhere, but they’re both so hurt, it’s impossible to be happy about anything. ‘But, then, I realised how much I really _do_ trust you: you wouldn’t throw your life away so recklessly. Would you?’ And Impa can’t be sure if Zelda is reflecting on the choice before them. Impa wouldn’t toss aside all that she has, just for Zelda. She _can’t_ do that.

The sheikah shakes her head briefly, ‘No. I wouldn’t.’

Zelda’s eyes sting.

She exhales shakily, all that she is feeling beginning to pour.

‘I understand,’ she whispers. ‘It’s wise, Impa. I _—_ _I would do the same_.’ She scrunches her eyes shut, her heart slowly decaying. ‘I do not blame you, and what I am asking of you _—_ what I _—_ _want_ , it’s too much. I should have _—_ ’ she lets out a pained gasp, her face torn with agony. Tears loosely fall and only Impa sees them. ‘All I want is for you to be happy.’

Finally.

 _Finally_ , it’s out there.

Raw and vulnerable.

‘I am _so_ sorry,’ Zelda clenches her fists, her body shuddering.

‘Princess _—_?’

‘And there was a moment. There was a moment, in which I was selfish, and I thought you would _choose me_. How foolish.’ She can’t even look at Impa now. Her gaze is empty. As if all the life has been drained from her. The princess stares at the open space for a long while, and then, when she looks at Impa again, the sheikah can see everything she has ever truly wanted: a future. ‘I think it might be more suitable if you serve another.’

Before Impa can say a word, Zelda reaches for her blood-stained hand, and squeezes tight.

‘I’m sorry.’

Then she lets go. Impa is stunned. Zelda is then lost in the crowds, disappearing and then gone. Immediately, reality hits Impa, and she panics. She is _terrified_. Without so much as a thought, she follows wherever Zelda has gone; through the crowds, the thousands of people, the chatter and laughter and life.

Impa does the only thing which makes sense: she chases after her.

To her relief, Zelda hasn’t walked too far. They enter a long passageway, and Impa calls out for her, only to hear her own echo. This is a nightmare. One in which no matter how many times Impa calls for Zelda, Zelda does not turn; she does not give Impa a _chance_. And, there is a long, horrible minute in which Impa believes that to be true.

So she stops.

For the first time, Impa surrenders.

_But I’ve made my choice._

_I’ve made **my** choice._

‘ _—_ Zelda, it’s _you_.’

And, the princess stills. The world around them goes silent. Impa stares at her back, and, slowly, finds a way to be _open_ with her. It has taken time, a _significant_ amount of time, but Impa knows if this is going to work at all, she _has_ to be blunt. She has to express what is going on in her head, what she is feeling; she has to help Zelda, and let her see things the way Impa does. To have their childhoods and lives exposed to one another. To be _this_ vulnerable with another person, it’s like signing a death sentence, and Impa has never been more afraid.

Impa tries again.

‘It’s always been you.’

She doesn’t recognise her own voice. It sounds tired, defeated; scared.

When Zelda turns to look at her, Impa honestly doesn’t know what to expect. She dreads Zelda will ignore it all, and walk away again. That she won’t believe Impa. That, despite Impa’s efforts, they mean nothing.

Initially the princess doesn’t seem convinced.

She sobs quietly, tears still streaming down her cheeks; a helpless creature, _begging_ to be loved. Cautiously, Zelda takes a step towards Impa, and then another. Then, she stops, chest heavy, pulse racing, and she just needs Impa to _—_

‘ _—_ _say that again_.’

Impa raises her brows, ‘What?’

‘Tell me. Tell me again. _Say it_.’

A burst of confidence, perhaps anger, has encouraged Zelda to move closer, until they’re mere inches from each other. Zelda is somehow taller than usual, her eyes glowing, trembling all over, _and she’s pleading_. She has to be sure she hasn’t lost her mind. That Impa really did _say what she said_ ; that all her grief has not been for nothing.

Saying it once is hard enough.

Saying it twice is madness.

To say it a third time, Impa feels _strangled_. Her lungs give out, and she nearly collapses to her knees in defeat. So, desperate, she grabs hold of Zelda, and pushes her up against the wall, hard enough to inflict pain; to make it _clear_ and then, Impa kisses her so beautifully, Zelda nearly faints. Zelda moans, wrapping her arms around her, pushing her body up into hers, and they are delirious for each other. Impa’s mouth is like heaven on Zelda’s; the princess pulls at her hair, her collar, demanding her closer, closer, _closer_.

Everything they have held back _flows_. They surrender to one another. Everything they have ever wanted, _they now_ _have_. Zelda bites down on Impa’s lips, sucks on her tongue, kisses her lips, her face, embraces her so tightly, wants her, _needs her everywhere_ ; she’s practically pleading with every kiss _, if you can’t tell me than_ ** _show_** _me._ She whispers in her ear, _please,_ and Impa shivers, _I want you. It’s only you that I want—I_ ** _want_** _you, with me, inside me, kissing me_.

Neither _dare_ let the other go. Zelda guides Impa to her waist, her thighs, between, and she gasps, slamming her mouth onto Impa’s as she fucks her against the wall. Something so otherworldly for a princess, far from anything Zelda would have imagined, and she _wants it_ , she _loves_ it, and having Impa touch her like this, Zelda _glows_ ; she’s so bright, radiant, smiling, gasping, moaning, clinging onto her so hard, she could _scream_ for her. They kiss over and over, _aching_ for one another, and Zelda whispers _I love you, I love you, I love you_ a sweet lullaby, so wonderful, it’s enough to nearly make Impa cry.

And she does.

Zelda has never witnessed Impa cry before, and, once upon a time, she wondered if Impa _knew_ how to cry. Impa isn’t vocal, but terribly quiet; Zelda kisses her tears, embraces her protectively, and promises

 _it’s okay, it’s all going to be okay_.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter 13: Kingdom**

_It is a rare sight indeed. Now, she understands why the royal family is perceived as an establishment so majestic, superior, and awesome in its power. The closest to a God that any mortal can approach. And they are beautiful creatures, she thinks, almost flawless in every sense. The world envies them, admires them, loathes them and adores them for all that they are._

_The princess of Hyrule is only eight. A tiny thing. She is sad often. How a child so young can carry this much grief around with her is a mystery. A tragic one. Since her mother’s death, the princess has preferred her own company. She doesn’t like the maids very much, and the servants irritate her. Father is absent. So, Zelda spends most of her time reading books beneath the sycamore tree, located just behind the gates leading towards Hyrule Castle._

_A guard keeps a wary eye out. However, the princess is undisturbed, and nobody of mischief is within sight. A curious, young girl has been watching him, waiting until he grows bored and turns his attention elsewhere. From experience, she knows the castle guards aren’t particularly efficient, and, unsurprisingly, the guard eventually focusses his gaze elsewhere than the princess._

_Now, this is not what Impa thought a princess would look like. She expected somebody in pink dresses, with flowers in her hair. This princess, however, is garbed in blue, and she doesn’t wear flowers; she has a small knife hooked to her hip. She doesn’t seem to care for the pretty things in life, evidently obsessed with the book she is reading. How strange. Purah always remarked on how royal princesses, especially this one, have their head in the clouds; they don’t care for knowledge and would rather waste their days on their appearance._

_Impa knows Purah is biased when it comes to the royal family. Unfortunately, Yiga propaganda has got the best of her, but Impa doesn’t really care for it. She wanted to see for herself whether princesses are the way Purah described. From what Impa can see, Purah is wrong. Purah is very wrong. Impa throws one last glance at the distracted guard, before silently proceeding for the sycamore tree. Genetics come in handy here: the sheikah are renowned for their stealth and, effortlessly, Impa reaches the princess without being heard or spotted._

_Peering at the book over the princess’s shoulder, Impa realises the princess is reading about legends of old. This one she is familiar with: a boy and his ocarina, whom travelled through time. The princess in that story was quite the warrior. Why is the princess reading about this tale in particular?_

_‘Your Royal Highness?’_

_The princess, to Impa’s relief, isn’t afraid. As if this occurs every day, she turns and looks at Impa. Her eyes are ethereal, and Impa is stunned. Poets could only hope to convey this celestial being. It is almost disturbing how otherworldly this young princess is, and Impa suddenly feels very exposed around her. She has never seen anything quite like it before. This princess embodies everything Impa has only dreamed of: perfection, beauty, an affability beyond her comprehension._

_Completely unaware of Impa’s awe, the princess tilts her head, curious._

_‘Yes?’_

_Impa thought people like this only existed in legend._

_Realising the princess is acknowledging her, Impa reaches for a blue flower she had carefully pocked on her journey here._

_She offers it._

_‘This is for you.’_

_The princess frowns, accepting the gift. ‘Thank you.’_

_‘It’s called—’ Impa pauses, now wondering if the gift is all that appropriate. Well, she’s got this far, so she might as well continue. ‘It’s called a silent princess.’_

_‘Why?’_

_Impa has to admit, that’s a very good question. She feigns deep concentration, wishing she actually knew. ‘Ironically, they don’t grow in urban areas — like a princess does, I guess. They prefer more open landscapes. I suppose they simply don’t thrive when constrained.’ She shrugs. ‘I don’t know why they’re referred to as “silent” though, unless it’s a reference to a princess before your time.’_

_Uncomplaining. Slowly dying inside, tied down to a way of life which simply does not suit her. A flower which requires the wilderness in order to bloom; to flourish in her own independence. To be free from all that chains her down. All expectations and judgement, no longer weighing down on her tiny shoulders. The memory of her mother’s death, a constant reminder of her own failures._

_And the failures yet to come._

_The princess studies the flower, then smiles at Impa, lovely and sad._

_‘What’s your name?’_

_‘I’m Impa.’_

_‘Impa.’ The princess giggles. ‘That’s funny. I was reading about an Impa in this book.’ She presents it to her companion. ‘She was a_ lot _older than you, though. Bigger too. They say she could defeat armies all on her own. I wish I was that strong.’ She sighs. ‘Maybe you will be that strong one day, too?’_

_That is quite a feat. Impa chuckles nervously._

_‘When you do, maybe you can come back and visit me? You can teach me how to be strong, too.’ Before Impa can respond, the princess panics upon hearing the guard coming over to check on her. ‘You have to go! If you get caught, then father will be really mad. He doesn’t like it when the other children talk to me.’_

_The princess turns back to the guard, standing to her feet. She checks behind her to make sure Impa has fled, and, to her astonishment, the girl has disappeared from sight. The princess scrunches her eyes shut, opens them. Was the girl real? Had she dreamt that? It amazes the princess how she just vanished without a trace. Relieved her companion is out of sight, though, she doesn’t complain._

_Glancing down at the flower, the princess presses it close to her person; she will keep her gift safe._

That was not the last Impa visited Princess Zelda. Multiple times, the sheikah broke the rules and trespassed the castle grounds so as to meet the princess, but only when Impa turned fourteen and joined the academy did they lose contact. During that period, Zelda hadn’t necessarily forgotten about her, but simply believed Impa had moved onto other things in life.

Only when she saw Impa serving her father, two years later, did Zelda realise. It was a shock, to say the least. Initially Zelda was terrified Impa was being punished for trespassing like she used to, but it quickly became clear to her that Impa had been employed by the Crown.

She was taller. Her hair longer. She had a coming-of age tattoo. Impa was pretty, and she was older; but that curious streak she held had not faded. Appearance wise, Impa may have changed, however her kindness, generosity and humility hadn’t gone anywhere. The first time Zelda witnessed Impa in battle, it became absolutely clear to Zelda why she was picked as her father’s personal guard. Impa had grown stronger. _Much_ stronger, just like the Impa she read about in the old legends.

The two only acknowledged each other from afar. Zelda certainly admired her. She enjoyed watching her, liked it when Impa noticed her. Whenever her father came round, her royal advisor following, the meetings weren’t as bad. Impa’s presence seemed to make all the difference. Zelda just never thought that, eventually, her life would be Impa’s sole responsibility.

Zelda had kept the flower. It remains still in her study.

Sometimes, she wonders, _had you served my father, just so you could be near me?_

The events of the prior evening feel months away. Having Impa finally confess what she wanted, _who_ she wanted, was an emotionally exhausting war for the both of them. In retrospect, Zelda hadn’t helped Impa a great deal, causing more frustration than clarity for the sheikah warrior. It was only when Zelda made the decision for Impa did everything become clear.

Yet, despite all that has been said, their situation is still far from perfect.

When Zelda had shown Impa the views of Hyrule, and suggested she, too, could rule these great lands, Zelda had almost let slip a thought she has kept hidden for some time. To this day, even _thinking_ about it makes her wince. There is great shame and disgrace in renouncing the throne, but Zelda must give credit to her thought process. It isn’t all that clear-cut.

She knows, in her heart, there are more efficient leaders out there. Lady Mipha is one of them. Impa would rebuke Zelda for comparing herself to Mipha, but Zelda honestly can’t help herself. Mipha _is_ wiser. She not only possesses total authority of her people, but they _adore_ her; they want her as their princess, their soon-to-be queen. Mipha’s popularity is incomparable to Zelda’s, and every time she has visited Zora’s Domain, it’s so obvious the zora see her as the _other_ princess. But of course they would. In their eyes, Zelda _is_ the _other_.

The hylian royal family has been divisive in history, separating borders and treating its different tribes unequally. Such an ugly past goes back centuries. The Yiga Clan, while Master Kohga has taken a step back from his rebellion, has not faded away. Although they shared a common enemy during the war, that pain the sheikah tribe once held has not been eradicated. It isn’t just the sheikah who struggle where to stand on monarchy. The gerudo, too. If it weren’t for Urbosa’s love for Princess Zelda, the princess dare not imagine how she would be treated by them.

At least the goron and rito aren’t _too_ hostile, but, at times, their tribe also struggles with the hylian monarchy. It goes deeper than that, though. Princess Zelda has been blessed by the Goddess Hylia, and she inevitably possesses the Goddess’s powers. Tradition has it that the monarchy should have its closest ties with the Goddesses. It has always been that way.

And with that, the cycle just keeps spinning.

This war they fought, it will only begin again in another thousand years. Just as the legends constantly describe.

It will never be over.

Something _has_ to give.

What that _something_ is, though, Zelda dare not imagine.

-

Despite the early hour, the heat of Gerudo Desert is heavy. The sand is scorching, and anybody not used to such extreme temperatures would suffer immensely. However, this morning there are no storms; the vast desert could not be clearer, its snowy mountaintops and rocky cliffs stand high, gigantic and proud. No other place could be more dignified yet unseemly.

Two contradictory phenomena, joined as one, painting an image of perpetual chaos.

_—it’s you._

_it’s always been you._

The past couple of days have been excruciating.

As the hours pass, the significance of what was said becomes all the more cardinal. What was said was _dangerous_ , forbidden and there are moments when she wonders, _should I have not said anything at all?_ If anything, Zelda’s response to her confession was clarity enough that it _had_ to be said. They had kissed until they were aching, touched each other, held each other _desperately_ close, and by morning, Impa was sore in more ways than one.

Nobody has kissed her like that before. Nobody has made love to her like that before. Nobody has _loved_ her like that before, and every shred of doubt oozes in her mind like malice itself. Princesses don’t end up with people like her. But, surely, what occurred last night was a sign that they need to start trusting one another, to expose these hideous wounds they’ve kept veiled all this time.

To have Zelda walk away, _when Zelda walked away_ , she took Impa’s heart and soul with her. To be abandoned like that, for Zelda to just _accept_ Impa’s hesitations as rejection, it cut her deeply. That is something difficult to simply forget. And, she’s certain that Zelda may struggle, too. What happened between them was tender, agonising, harrowing.

For now they have each other’s confession.

For now, that is enough.

‘I wasn’t sure if you had ran away.’

At the sound of Princess Zelda’s voice, Impa tears her gaze from the view, and focusses on a far more beautiful sight.

Neither know if Zelda is joking.

Maybe she is, but a part of her _—_ something old and decaying _—_ speaks truthfully.

If Impa had fled to escape everything, to live her own life, even after her choice, Zelda wouldn’t blame her. By now, she has endured enough loss to accept defeat. Zelda won’t deny how her body warms, her heart glows, and she feels _complete_ whenever she lays eyes on the other woman though.

They realise neither have ever had a home. Not in the strictest sense.

Not a place where they can strip off their armour, dismantle their blades, and be free. To let go of everything, to _relax_ , breathe and think _, here I am happy_. Safe in the confinement of their own space. That kind of home, that kind of pleasure, has never been offered to them.

Until now.

Impa has never known what home means. When they were young, Purah always said a home was a roof with a bed. The soldiers she trained with called home where mother lived, and food waited for them on the table. Home to Link had always been Zora’s Domain, where he grew up and the love of his life resided. Home to Impa is the woman standing before her; this person she would kill for, die for, sacrifice all that she holds dear just to make her happy.

A woman who embraces her at night, kisses her to sleep, soothes her scars, and loves her for who she is. No buts, no ands, no ifs. What Zelda provides is so overwhelmingly simple, and everything a woman with nothing prays for. This is surely contentment, this is surely euphoria, to be loved and to be loved in return. To toss aside all regal titles and forsaken class. For it to just be the two of them, with all their ugliness and divinity, side-by-side.

Together.

It has always been Zelda, since the day she saw the little princess under a sycamore tree. It has always been Impa, since the day she gave Zelda the flower. Everything, in that moment, was about each other. Their fates aligned, finally, and over the years for that revelation to become clear.

‘You were the one who attempted to run away,’ Impa clarifies, smiling. ‘I distinctly recall I chased after you.’

‘Maybe I knew you would,’ Zelda replies softly. She folds her arms, eyes bright. Impa might have some idea, but she will never truly be able to comprehend what her choice meant to Zelda. How, suddenly, everything was all right in the world. ‘I always did wonder if you would find me.’

Impa shrugs, ‘Where else would I go?’ What she wants to say is, _there’s nothing for me out there. Nothing. Just you. You._ Impa steps over, ‘Surely you know by now, that I would follow you anywhere.’

 _Yes_ , Zelda breathes, _I do know._

They are both aware of the fact plenty more tribulations await them. However, alone in the vast deserts, the two choose not to worry about that for now. Zelda’s face glows when Impa embraces her, an admission, a devotion, embodying the vow she swore to. _Keep her safe, love her, protect her_. And Impa would choose that life, _this life_ , again, again and again.

In the weighted sunlight, they hold one another close, their bodies familiar, no longer strangers; their souls intertwined from eons ago, and whatever part of Zelda that may possibly be anomalous to Impa, she will destroy that part of her. Like lightning, forked, hitting the earth and joining what is heavenly and what is infernal, there is no point of return.

She kisses Impa, home at last.

end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has been a fucking journey, man.
> 
> I've genuinely fallen in love with these two. They're just gorgeously complex, and their love feels so real to me. I haven't written anything like this in so long.
> 
> Of course, I am so grateful for the wonderful feedback I have received throughout. A special shout out to Thewolfess, megnlv, midzel, the_quiet_sea, HarmonyBreeze and mothmanstan. You folk have not only shared such vibrant, enthusiastic reviews but you've been here from the start. You honestly helped me write this story. To those who have just started reading, or have not voiced their feedback, I am so thankful for your support. 
> 
> I don't think this is the end. We haven't had Link and Mipha's wedding, for one.  
> It's mad, because this story was only meant to be around five chapters. I am amazed by how it has progressed, and it's so great to pick apart at these characters.
> 
> Until I post the sequel, take care. xx


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